


To Save a Kingdom

by Stray_Lilly



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Additional Tags to Be Added, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Angst, Arranged Marriage, Brutal Murder, Cock Cages, Dark Fantasy, Deception, Fights, Love Triangles, M/M, Magic, Moral Dilemmas, Oral Sex, Prophecy, Relationship Tags to Be Added - Freeform, Religious Guilt, Romance, Rough Sex, Sibling Rivalry
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-06
Updated: 2021-01-08
Packaged: 2021-03-10 05:00:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 25,280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27918607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stray_Lilly/pseuds/Stray_Lilly
Summary: Three betrothed, six tasks.Only one will earn the privilege of sitting on a throne, beside the Crown Prince of Klythya.Nearly twenty two years ago, The First Flood ravaged the Kingdom of Klythya, taking lives, and destroying everything in its path. Now, to prevent The Second Flood, Kim Seungmin, crown prince of Klythya finds himself betrothed to three men, neither of whom are the one who has always had his heart.[Summary continued in notes]
Relationships: ?/?, Bang Chan/Lee Felix, Han Jisung | Han/Kim Seungmin, Hwang Hyunjin/Kim Seungmin, Hwang Hyunjin/Seo Changbin, Hwang Hyunjin/Yang Jeongin | I.N, Kim Seungmin/Lee Felix, Kim Seungmin/Lee Minho | Lee Know
Comments: 12
Kudos: 88





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Lee Minho serves as a guardsman to the royal family – a position he’s inherited along with his ancestral powers. But when love starts to conflict with his duty, he begins to question where his loyalty lies. He soon realizes that he has been living in the dark for most of his life, and he has to place his trust in the unlikeliest people to shed light on the truths kept hidden.
> 
> Lee Felix is the Prince of Myre – a sea kingdom, a place where the ocean is worshipped above all else. And Felix loves the ocean, everything about it. But he finds himself being forced into a betrothal, and taken away from the one thing that he’s always lived for. In Klythya, he feels caged, and the only thing to keep him sane, and safe, is his best friend – a sea captain and personal guard.
> 
> Bang Chan has been in love with the sea, almost as long as he’s been in love with his best friend, the Prince of Myre. Sacrificing a life on the seas, he accompanies his prince to Klythya. With his love kept secret even from the prince himself, Chan has to helplessly watch as the prince is courted and pulled into a dangerous political game. 
> 
> Hwang Hyunjin never thought that he, a peasant, would be chosen as one of the prince’s betrothed. Soon he finds himself having to leave behind his village life, and his chance at unravelling his mysterious gifts, in exchange for the lavish life of a Klythyan royal. Thanks to his gifts, the secrets hidden at the heart of Klythya are revealed to him. But in Klythya, knowledge of such secrets bring danger. And only an unforeseen friendship with a young prince can keep him safe.
> 
> Changbin didn’t know how much Hyunjin meant to him until he was taken away, to the castle, to the prince who would either marry him, or discard him. Changbin knows that he could wait for the latter to happen, but that would be too risky. In order to save Hyunjin from his betrothal, Changbin finds himself making a deal with the most unsavoury being, and being forced to partake in deception and destruction.
> 
> Han Jisung has always wanted to be a royal. He was moulded to be one. If he hadn’t been betrothed to the Prince of Klythya, his parents would have arranged for marriage into another royal family. It was his destiny. With the throne of Klythya in sight, Jisung underestimates his competitors. But Jisung is a master manipulator, and he’s prepared to do anything to claim his place beside Seungmin.
> 
> Jeongin has always been ‘the other prince’, not the important one, not the one destined for great things. But when he finds himself inexplicably drawn towards one of his brother’s suitors, Jeongin becomes conflicted between following his heart and bringing destruction upon his people, or losing his one chance at love in order to save his people.
> 
> (Please read the tags before continuing 💞)

The Hanging Gardens was supposedly the most peaceful place in the entirety of Klythya, but Seungmin had always found it unsettling. Named for the vines and flowers that covered every inch of the space, there was no other sound, save for the footsteps of Seungmin and his guardsman. Too quiet for Seungmin’s liking, the gardens were where the Children of Sanctity dwelled – a secular order that oversaw the laws of the Kingdom of Klythya. 

It was by one of them, that Seungmin had been summoned. He stopped at the entrance to the sepulchre, awaiting the Master of the order. He glanced over his shoulder at his guardsman who stood at attention, eyes scanning the surroundings as though something terrible was going to materialize from the flowery walls and attack them. 

“Leave us,” Siyeolan said as she emerged from the stone vault, giving the guard a dismissive glance. The guard hesitated before leaving, if only for a second, but that was reason enough for Siyeolan to raise an eyebrow and make Seungmin inwardly cringe.

“You know that’s a bad idea, don’t you?” Siyeolan questioned as they chose a random path and set off on a stroll. “I’ve told you _countless_ times to end it.”

“And I told you,” Seungmin argued, “that’s not going to happen.”

Siyeolan bristled. “Kim Seungmin, you are a _prince_ , and you’re about to be married very soon. I doubt your soon-to-be husband would approve of you allowing your personal guard into your bed.”

“I still have six months.” And even as he said it, he knew it would never be enough time. He cast Siyeolan a hopeful glance. She looked regal in her rich purple robe, the cowl lined in gold and drawn back. A rope of grey hair coiled at the base of her neck, a large ruby placed at the centre. It was all allusive to her status in the Order. As the crown prince, Seungmin’s education – in etiquette, in politicking – was left in Siyeolan’s hands. It was Siyeolan alone who could request an audience with the Maker above, and Siyeolan alone who could shape Seungmin into a king deemed worthy of the Maker. Still, unbeknownst to Seungmin’s parents, Siyeolan had been fairly lenient with Seungmin, so he’d hoped… “Since you’re in charge of choosing, I thought…”

Siyeolan halted, forcing Seungmin to stop with her. “I am _not_ in charge of choosing your betrothed. I merely show you those deemed worthy by the Maker, and it’s _you_ who does the choosing.”

Seungmin scowled. “You and I both know it’s my parents who will be doing the choosing. I’ll barely get a say in it. But if you just lay out the right options… You know, suitors who are open-minded…”

“That’s not how it works. I simply convey the Maker’s will –”

“But that’s bullshit,” Seungmin spat. “I’ll tell you what’s going to happen. You and my parents are going to huddle in their office, looking at the suitors who offer the best alliances and then you’re going to shove them my way. Am I wrong?”

For a long minute, Siyeolan stared off into the distance. She heaved a weary sigh, retrieving a folder from the inside of her robe. “It’s not going to happen. It’s already happened.”

Seungmin felt a sinking feeling in his chest and his hand trembled as he reached out for the folder. He knew it was going to happen. He knew. But facing the reality of it…

“I summoned you here to give you a heads-up,” Siyeolan explained. “So you don’t get too much of a surprise when they tell you tomorrow.”

Seungmin opened the folder, looking at the first profile. The male in the photograph had midnight blue hair, his lips twisted into an arrogant smile. _Han Jisung_ , he read. “From the Kingdom of Hamlyne? Father has been trying to lower their import taxes for the last decade.”

Siyeolan nodded. “An alliance with them would help a great deal. Jisung’s father is no king, but holds sway with the king of Hamlyne. He’s one of the king’s most trusted friends and advisors.”

“But his son looks arrogant,” Seungmin observed. “I refuse to spend my life with someone like that.” He turned to the next profile.

Immediately, he balked. “A – A peasant!” He looked to Siyeolan for confirmation and his teacher simply nodded. _Hwang Hyunjin_. Extraordinarily good-looking for a peasant – jet black shoulder length hair, full lips. He would be the picture-perfect king. There didn’t seem to be much to him, except that he’d applied for leave to study at the Archive of Klythya – a place where the most ancient of knowledge was stored for only the brightest scholars to study. 

“Beauty like this wasted in the Archive?” Seungmin muttered. “Imagine…” Someone that good looking could make a fortune as a courtesan.

“Turn the page,” Siyeolan instructed, hands folded behind her back.

So Seungmin turned to the next profile and couldn’t help the incredibly loud, delighted gasp that escaped from between his lips. “Siyeolan this – this is Felix!”

“Your parents were doubtful about this one, but I convinced them,” Siyeolan gave him a small smile. “As your childhood friend I think the Prince of Myre will be more amicable to your… choice of bedmate. If you can convince him.”

Seungmin and Felix had grown up together. Their parents, although the leaders of two very different kingdoms, were good friends, and had ensured their offspring would be fast friends too. It had been a long while since Seungmin had even set eyes on Felix. He was currently, to the best of Seungmin’s knowledge, traveling aboard a ship, exploring the continent. He’d hate to cut his adventures short, but yes, Siyeolan was right; Felix would be perfect for this. He’d almost forgotten that Felix was born in the year of The First Flood.

The First Flood. Seungmin had only been five months old when the flood had ravaged through the kingdom, destroying all in its wake. And that awful man, the second Master of the order, now in a tomb below the gardens, had predicted the coming of the flood, had explained that it was the will of the Maker. He conveyed a message from the Maker before his death. 

_Before his twenty second birthday, the seventh heir to the throne of Klythya must be married to another, an only son, born in the year of The First Flood. Should he defy the wishes of the Maker, Klythya must prepare for The Second Flood – one that none in the Kingdom can survive._

“So they’ve narrowed it down to three?” Seungmin sighed. One of these three would be his husband in six months. 

“Tomorrow at noon they’ll announce that after prayer and blessing from the Maker, we have been presented with three choices,” Siyeolan shook her head as though she herself disapproved of the idea. “The three suitors are expected to arrive two days from tomorrow. And the first task will begin seven days from tomorrow.” She met Seungmin’s worried gaze and gestured to the guard who stood inconspicuously at the far end of the gardens. “Go. Make use of what time you have left.”

Seungmin nodded, knowing that he should thank Siyeolan for her help, but the words were lodged in his throat. He had the urge to lash out, to call out Siyeolan for placing the rambling words of a dead man above happiness, above free will. But he knew better than to do that.

None of the Children of Sanctity were to be taken lightly, and Siyeolan may have been Seungmin’s teacher, but she was also the youngest _Master_ of the order for a reason. Just a decade older than Seungmin, she’d quickly risen in the ranks of her Order. Her eyes, molten green, seemed to glow in warning that she was not to be trifled with. She patted Seungmin’s shoulder as means of dismissal. 

The Hanging Gardens were connected to the rest of the castle by a narrow passage, almost hidden by a curtain of thick vines. None but the royal family and their household guards knew of its existence. His guardsman lifted the vines, allowing Seungmin to pass through first before following.

Seungmin took a few more steps into the passage before turning to him. “Minho,” he gulped, and perhaps his eyes conveyed just how distraught he was, because Minho lifted a hand to his cheek.

“What’s wrong, my Prince?” Minho asked, brown eyes studying him intently. “Has the Master..." He bit his lip. “Did you find out anything?”

Seungmin nodded, placing his hand over Minho’s and leaning into the older man’s touch. “It’s all been decided.”

Minho’s anguish mirrored his own and he opened his mouth as if to offer Seungmin words of reassurance, but failed to find any. 

“My bedroom,” Seungmin whispered. And Minho nodded, understanding.

At this time of night, the castle was quiet, the hustle and bustle of the day quietly put to rest. But still, Minho lingered a few steps behind Seungmin, trying to avoid raising suspicion. 

Seungmin was glad to finally be behind the closed double doors of his bedroom. He nuzzled his face into the back of Minho’s neck while the guardsman made sure the doors were locked. 

“What would you like?” Minho asked in a whisper, turning his head to place a kiss on Seungmin’s neck. 

_Everything_. Seungmin wanted everything. He wanted to taste Minho. And feel him, all of him. He wanted Minho to have him, all of him, to remember him. They had three days. Seungmin would use them well. As for tonight…

“I want to taste you.”

He hooked his fingers around the leather belt that hung around Minho’s waist, pulling the guardsman over to the oak bed, its mattress large enough for several people to sleep comfortably.

Minho undid the buttons holding his leather pants in place, and Seungmin took the initiative to pull them as well as his breeches down to his knees. Minho sucked in a breath as his length was exposed to the cool air.

He sat at the edge of the bed, lips curved into a soft smile as he allowed Seungmin to undo the belt that was strapped across his chest, holding his prized collection of Klythyan daggers. Seungmin was careful as he placed the belt of daggers onto the bed, knowing very well how precious they were to the guard. His fingers deftly removed the leather belt that held Minho’s brigandine in place. 

The brigandine itself was heavy – made of dark red leather, steel plates lining the fabric over his chest. A bother to remove, but Minho just wouldn’t exchange it for something lighter, easier, even when Seungmin begged.

With effort, he slipped the brigandine off Minho’s shoulders, and it fell onto the bed with a thud. Slowly, because he enjoyed teasing the guard, he slipped his hands under the cotton shirt, trailing his fingers over his torso. Minho quivered at the touch, and Seungmin smiled. Almost pleadingly, Minho lifted his arms, eager for that last article of clothing to be removed. Seungmin obliged.

Only three rings remained on Minho’s finger, each baring a different coloured stone – red, blue, green. They weren’t ornaments; they were conduits for the obscurities that filtered through Minho’s blood. Without them, what he could unleash upon the world would be devastating, but with them, he salvaged control. 

Satisfied, Seungmin dropped to his knees, placing his hands around Minho’s bare thighs. Minho’s gaze was fire when Seungmin licked the underside of his cock. He placed a soft kiss on the head, using his tongue to tease the slit and lick off the precum. Minho clenched the silk sheets, and Seungmin knew he was trying to refrain from fucking his mouth.

So Seungmin took him whole into his mouth, lips stretched wide as they slid down to the base, nose nuzzling into the two sacs. Minho lost it then, grunting out Seungmin’s name as he bucked into his mouth, taking a fistful of Seungmin’s cherry red hair so that the prince felt a searing pain in his scalp.

Seungmin relished the burn as Minho’s cock hit the back of his throat; he stayed put for a few seconds, revelling in the uneasiness of his breathing, choking, before swallowing around his cock. He began to bob his head, his saliva and Minho’s precum forming the lubrication needed. He moaned around the length, knowing the vibrations would make Minho go wild.

They did. Minho leaned back, the thrusting of his hips animalistic, so that Seungmin was forced to stay in place while his mouth was used. “My dirty prince,” Minho murmured.

Seungmin could only moan in response, the volume of his moans increasing, and his eyes beginning to tear as Minho’s cock constantly hit the back of his throat. 

It didn’t take long before Minho was spurting cum into Seungmin’s throat. His cock pulsed against Seungmin’s tongue as the prince milked him dry, savouring every drop of his guardsman’s cum. He wouldn’t let any of it go to waste.

Minho released his grip on Seungmin’s hair, allowing his prince’s mouth to find reprieve. Seungmin rose up onto his feet, slightly unsteady. He placed his hands on the guard’s shoulders, leaning down to kiss him. Minho placed his hands around Seungmin’s waist, his grip steady. 

Their kiss was soft, chaste, their lips lingering, conveying the words that they needed to say, but could not. Minho sucked on Seungmin’s tongue, and Seungmin knew he tasted the remnants of his cum. “Turn around,” Seungmin whispered, giving him a devilish smile which he returned before doing as instructed.

Seungmin made fast work of undressing himself, kicking his discarded clothes out of the way. He kept the jar of lubricant in the same drawer in which he kept his most lavish jewels. He knew the servants would never dare to touch that drawer. The gel smelled like lavender. It was something Minho had procured from a merchant a few months ago. 

He lathered some onto his fingers, and eyed the guard who waited patiently on all fours. Seungmin climbed onto the bed and silently thanked the Maker above for sending Minho to him. He pressed a kiss onto Minho’s cheeks before spreading them. He heard the sharp intake of breath from Minho as cold fingers circled his rim.

“My prince…” Minho gasped. “Please.”

Seungmin smirked. “Please what, guard?”

“Need to be filled,” Minho sounded desperate even though he’d just come. “Need you. Please.”

It brought Seungmin comfort knowing Minho wanted him with the same eagerness and desperation that he wanted Minho. 

He slipped a finger past the tight ring of muscle, his own dick twitching against his stomach. He thrust his finger in and out, feeling the heat clench and unclench around him. Minho was already panting when he added a second finger, angling them upward where he knew he’d find that sensitive bundle of nerves.

He’d barely touched it when Minho began pushing back against his fingers. Seungmin chuckled. “Be patient for your prince, Minho.” Minho immediately stilled, with much effort. Seungmin added a third finger. He pushed his fingers in as far as they could go, the strangled moan from Minho spurring him on, encouraging him to thrust his fingers. He moved them back so that only the tips remained, stretching Minho’s hole, and then slowly slid them back in. 

He repeated the agonizing process, until Minho began begging.

“Seungmin, _please_ ,” he sounded broken. “Please. Need you.”

“And I need you,” Seungmin reassured him, pressing a kiss onto the base of the guard’s quivering spine. He removed his fingers, lathering his dick as best as he could before lining up.

He didn’t tease Minho this time; he plunged into him until he was pressed flush against him. “You feel so good,” he groaned, circling his hips, wanting to feel as much of the other as he could. Minho pressed his head into the pillows, emitting a sound that wavered between a moan and a whine.

Seungmin placed his hands on Minho’s hips, pulling back until only the head remained, wedging Minho open, and then slammed back into him.

Minho was _loud_ , every noise he made bouncing off the stone walls, but Seungmin didn’t care. His bedroom was the only one in the Western quarters of the castle. 

He moved his hips at a ferocious pace, drawing out every sound he could from the other. Seungmin could have come just from the noises Minho made together with sound of his cock splitting Minho open. 

“Seungmin, I…” Minho gasped. “Close. So fucking close.”

Seungmin knew that when Minho began to use profane language he was well and truly gone. So he angled his hips upward, his last thrusts his hardest, and filled Minho with his cum. He didn’t need to ask whether Minho had come, because the muscles in his back were tense, and when Seungmin pulled out, he could see his sheets covered in white.

Minho flopped onto his back and Seungmin crawled up to him, hovering over him and simply taking in the fucked out state of the guard. He looked up at Seungmin with hooded eyes, raising a hand to reach for his prince, bringing him down for another kiss.

“Tomorrow,” Minho said, when Seungmin pulled back. “Tomorrow, I’m going to be inside you, my prince. For as long as I can.”

Seungmin’s lips curved up into a smile and his spine tingled just at the thought of it. Yes, they’d need each other tomorrow. Things were going to change. Drastically. _They_ were going to change. What they had was going to change. 

But Seungmin was going to hold onto it for as long as he could.

Felix looked out at the dark stretch of blue, almost black as it met the night’s sky. Waves sloshed around the ship, their arms of foam reaching out to him, beckoning to him. He heard the call of the ocean as clear as any voice. 

He was one of the sea people.

His people kept to themselves, almost outcasts, but by choice. They were different from those who dwelled in other kingdoms. The blood that flowed through their veins infused with the essence of the ocean. Their eyes were a glacial blue, changing at times to reflect the colour of the sky as the ocean did. And on their skin, if you looked closely, you would see the faint sheen of salt. They weren’t just from the sea; _they were of the sea_. 

Felix inhaled, leaning over the deck to allow the water to spray onto his face. He smiled, running his fingers through damp strands of hair. 

He turned around at Chan’s approach, noticing the piece of parchment still clutched in the captain’s hand. He’d seen the messenger bird arrive minutes ago – dark blue, its wings streaked with white – one of several Pyrgrenes belonging to the Myre castle aviary. 

“I’m guessing that the Pyrgrene bore bad news,” Felix sighed, wringing his hands and casting the captain a nervous glance.

Chan simply tightened his grip on the parchment, eyes looking to the sky. “We need to change course immediately.” But even as he spoke those words, he made no move to steer the ship in a different direction.

Felix stiffened, looking out at the dark mass of blue. “What do you mean? Change course and go _where_? My parents know that I’m – that I’m happy out here.”

“You’ve forgotten,” Chan sighed, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Tomorrow is the first day of Harvest.” Besides their low voices, none but the waves crashing beneath the ship could be heard. It was late and the night crew was a quiet bunch. 

“And so what?” Felix whirled around to face him. “They’ve always celebrated without me. That castle is stifling, Chan. You _know_ that.”

When Felix’s mother had given birth to him, on the shores of Myre, like tradition dictated, the blue of his eyes had swirled like the waves that crashed against their castle walls, and they’d known then that he had more of the sea in him than any of the others. Like the ocean, Felix was not to be contained.

“Felix,” Chan sighed, lip clenched between his teeth. “It’s not about that.”

Felix suddenly became wary. This wasn’t Chan’s usual easy-going demeanour. Something had shaken him. Whatever was written on that piece of parchment had shaken him. “What is it, Chan? Tell me _now_.” While he usually refrained from barking orders like the prince he was, he couldn’t help that his impatience sometimes got the better of him.

“You know what’s going to happen on the first day of Harvest. The Prince of Klythya…”

 _Oh, Seungmin_ . Felix furrowed his brows. Everyone knew about the Kylthyan Flood, about how they were trying to prevent another by marrying their son to someone as one of their mages had instructed. Felix wondered how his friend was faring. Seungmin had always been headstrong, but he would have to bow to the whims of his parents this time, especially where the fate of his people hung in the balance. “What does that have to do with _me_?”

His captain gulped, his darkening eyes conveying what Felix feared. “We’re to set sail for Klythya immediately.”

“Me?” Felix gaped. “They – They want _me_?” He said a silent prayer to the Maker hoping he’d misunderstood.

But Chan nodded, looking away. “Your parents received word from the Klythyan Queen. The three betrothed have already been chosen. You are one of them, Felix.”

For a moment, neither of them said anything, and then Felix shook his head. “I can refuse, can’t I? If I don’t want to –”

“It’s your parents’ wish that you accept.”

Felix balked. They had _never_ imposed their will on him. They’ve always understood his fear of confinement, his need to be out on the seas – _in_ the sea. But to do this, to _force_ him into this… It wasn’t right. It didn’t make sense.

“I don’t know what compelled them,” Chan went on, “but it’s their _order_ that you make your way immediately to the Kingdom of Klythya. And you know the consequences for disobedience.”

Felix could feel the frustration building up inside him, threatening to ripple through like a sea storm. He stepped up onto the bough, flinging himself out into the water. Arms spread, the waves enveloped him into a hug, greeting him like a beloved friend. 

When he dived beneath the surface, he embraced the iciness of the water, becoming one with every molecule, feeling it seep into his bones, into his soul. This was where he belonged. Every muscle in his body pined for the sea, reacting to its presence like a magnet drawn to metal.

He opened his eyes, his surroundings crystal clear. His lips curved into a smile at the small fish that skittered towards him in welcome. Koi, Gouramis, Platyfish… Their scales were a hundred different colours, shimmering under the moonlight. 

He inhaled and exhaled, the water as refreshing as air would be to a person of the land. He heard a splash above him and knew that Chan had joined him even before the pale skinned male dived beneath. 

As with Felix, the ocean critters swarmed him in greeting, causing him to linger before he joined the sea prince. 

_I know you don’t want to go, but your parents…_

Felix sighed. _I understand. But I hate it._

The ocean carried their words without them having to speak. For them, the water was a channel – it was sound, it was feeling, it was life. 

Chan reached out to touch Felix’s hair, an unnecessary gesture that made Felix’s heart skip a beat. He knew it was stupid. Chan wasn’t just Captain of _The Compass_ ; he was the head of Felix’s guard and the only guard Felix had ever taken with him on these adventures. 

Chan had been the one who’d taught Felix how to harness the power of the sea, how to keep that power on a leash, how to accept the uniqueness of being one of the sea people. Chan was his best friend. And these feelings, these _feelings_ that have always lingered after every touch, after every smile – they needed to be crushed.

Felix was to be betrothed, and even if it wasn’t him who was chosen by Seungmin at the end, it was still forbidden for one of the Royal Sea Guard to have any kind of relationship with a royal. The punishment would be fatal. 

But still, he found it hard to let go. He found it hard not to stare at Chan’s rosy lips, his eyes – the irises a dark blue, contrasting with the glacial blue of his pupils, his muscular body with such well-defined ridges. Even in the below-freezing temperature of the Myrean Sea, he could feel the heat pool in his core.

 _What is it?_ Chan tilted his head.

 _Dance with me_. Felix smiled. Anything. Anything to allow him just a little bit closer. Chan obliged, as he always did. 

He allowed his captain to draw him against his body, Felix’s delicate frame enveloped by that of the captain’s. No sooner had Chan pressed his body against Felix’s, than the water begin to move in a slow spiral around them, creating a song only they could hear. The sea sung of joy and laughter, of tears and pain, of anger and frustration, of life and death – a melody created only for them, and one only they could hear. 

The prince and his captain embraced the song, dancing along the ocean floor, letting the water lift them off their feet, dancing not _to_ the music, but _with_ it.

Here is where Felix belonged – in the arms of his captain, in the arms of his ocean.

Hyunjin smelled of horses and straw and chickenfeed. But above it all, was the undeniable smell of sex. Hyunjin was aware that there would be hell to pay for when he went back home. The first rays of the sun warmed his eyelids and he instinctively pushed the sound asleep man off him. 

“I have to go now,” he said, when Changbin mumbled something in annoyance.

Changbin propped himself up on his elbows, looking at Hyunjin groggily. “I’ll walk you home.”

“Why?” Hyunjin sniffed, reaching for the clothes they’d both discarded in their lust-fuelled frenzy the night before. “Have I suddenly forgotten how to make use of my feet?”

Changbin looked away, whether to hide his embarrassment or frustration or both, Hyunjin couldn’t say. Feeling a pang of guilt, his gaze softened and he ran his fingers through the older male’s dishevelled hair. “Today is the first day of Harvest. _And_ the day of the announcement. Mother will be expecting me home soon, and she’s never happy to see you. You know that.”

Changbin nodded, and it was evident that his smile was forced. “It’s alright. I have work to do. The animals aren’t going to feed themselves, anyway.”

Hyunjin rolled his eyes as he got up off the ground to dress himself. Changbin worked so diligently, that you’d be mistaken to think that he _enjoyed_ working as a farmhand. Still, Hyunjin admired him for it. 

“If you get chosen…”

Hyunjin snorted. “Changbin, save your sentiments. No prince is going to choose a peasant like me.”

But Changbin seemed concerned. “You know it’s the Maker who chooses, not the Prince, and –”

“Stop it,” Hyunjin snapped, sounding snippier than he’d intended. But Changbin was being soft and sappy, and that wasn’t what their relationship was about. The last thing he wanted was for the farmhand to begin talking about feelings – and he _knew_ what Changbin felt, but Changbin also knew that Hyunjin returned none of those feelings. At least, he _hoped_ Changbin was aware of that.

Hyunjin had dreams. He had things that he wanted to achieve – goals. His future lay at the doorstep of The Archive – the place where _everything_ that is known is collected and stored. Hyunjin enjoyed knowing things. 

He knew things about people. Secrets. He knew things other people didn’t. But he didn’t know these things by studying ancient scrolls and books like those at The Archive.

When he looked into still water, he never saw his reflection. Instead he would see the place where the cattle farmer had tucked away his wife’s jewels; he could see how the healer’s daughter snuck away every night to meet the shepherd’s son; he could see dark clouds billowing over the horizon hours before the sky changed its colour. When he dangled a necklace from his fingertips he could find his way in the dark by watching the sway of the pendant. And when he cared enough to let his temper flare, his ill-wishes would come alive, claiming revenge on those who had angered him.

He knew things. But he didn’t know enough. At The Archive he could learn so much more. He wasn’t interested in the ancient histories or secrets of kings and queens stored in The Archive’s towers. Oh no, he was interested in a very special room at the very top of the tallest tower where the secrets of the occult lay in wait.

He’d seen the room clearly one day while bathing in the river on a hot summer’s day. He’d been by himself, floating in the river, his eyes closed. And then he realized everything had gone quiet. Neither a bird, nor an insect, nor the brushing of leaves from the Cyprus trees could be heard. He opened his eyes, feeling for the riverbed with his feet. And when he steadied himself, he saw the place where the sun’s rays hit the water, creating a glittering halo upon the surface. And as Hyunjin approached the circle of light, he saw the image swirling within.

He needed those books. He needed to learn. He had a gift, but could not summon it on a whim. He had a gift but could not quite unwrap it until he had the means.

He’d already sent in his application, but it would be a few months until the Custodians of the Archive would review it and consolidate a response.

There was no way he could spend the rest of his life in this barn with Changbin, however tempting that thought may be at times. With a soft kiss, somewhat rushed, he bid Changbin goodbye. He could see that the male was still disgruntled, but when he returned to the barn later that night, he’d make it up to him.

Hyunjin’s mother was a slim, no-nonsense kind of woman who Hyunjin took great pleasure in crossing, but always paid for it dearly. His cheek stung, and he winced, steeling himself when she raised her hand to strike him again. 

She pursed her lips, lowering her hand, seeming to think better of it. “You should know better.”

“I did nothing wrong,” he shook his head and walked past her and into the cottage. 

She followed behind and he could practically _feel_ her seething. “You should bathe,” she told him, pushing him towards the bathing room. “You’ll find a new jacket on your bed. I requested the tailor to –”

“Mother!” he whirled on her. “You know we don’t have money to spend on such luxuries. What was the need?”

She balked at his tone, meeting his angry gaze with her own. “You were born in the year of the First Flood, Hyunjin. You are as likely to be chosen as anyone else, no matter how absurd it sounds to you!”

That was a load of hogwash, but Hyunjin had been hearing it for years. His mother’s every hope for the future hinged on him being chosen as one of the betrothed. She dreamed of the luxuries, the gold and jewels that came along with being crowned as a Royal. But it simply was not going to happen. There were thousands born in the very same here, and Hyunjin was nothing compared to those who resided in the upper echelons of society

He refrained from lashing out again, and settled for a loud sigh of frustration before he stalked off to the bathing room.

Once he’d cleaned and preened himself to his mother’s liking, he allowed himself to admire the jacket sown for him. It was pretty, and he _did_ like pretty clothes. The jacket was black velvet, powdery blue primroses embroidered around the lapel and cuffs. He’d thank her later, but he couldn’t help the guilt that stopped the smile from spreading across his face. There were times they barely had enough food, and this jacket – this _beautiful_ thing – could feed them for a month. 

Beautiful things were useless. He glanced at his reflection in the mirror, and his statement rang true. _Beautiful things are useless_.

The first day of Harvest was a special day for the wealthier folk of Klythya. For those who could afford it, there would be dancing and singing and feasting and games. But for the poorer majority, it was just any other day – or, it would have been.

Today was when the Maker revealed the chosen ones – the ones who were to be betrothed to the prince. Apparently (and Hyunjin believed none of this nonsense) mages who lived in a huge garden on the castle grounds would go into prayer – some say for days on end – until the Maker reveals its choices. No one knew how many there would be; just that the _final_ choice would be made by the prince himself.

Prince Seungmin looked like an arrogant thing, Hyunjin always thought whenever they received a broadcast from the castle. The Prince was always quiet, with a bored, condescending gaze. Hyunjin knew the rest of his village shared his sentiments about the Prince – he was nothing special.

At precisely four O’clock, everyone in the village gathered in the square. In their midst was a giant screen – something Klythya had imported from the Kingdom of Hamlyne, Hyunjin heard. Hamlyne was one of the more advanced kingdoms, known for inventions that the people of Klythya could only dream of. This screen, used to display important messages and special broadcasts, was only a glimpse of the wonders of Hamlyne. 

Hyunjin scanned the faces of the crowd, looking for Changbin. His lips curved into a smile when he spotted the man dressed in yellow breeches and leaning next to an old streetlight. Changbin caught his eye and winked, the tension between them that morning forgotten.

He only had time to return the wink when the broadcast began. 

Prince Seungmin sat between the King and Queen, a scroll of parchment in his hands. He glanced furtively at something behind the camera, his lips curving into a smile – as fake as the smile of a jester – and he began to read.

“Dear people of the Kingdom of Klythya,” he read, “the time has come for the announcement of the chosen.” He waited a beat, perhaps because he knew that a murmur would pass through the many crowds gathered in public spaces to watch the unfolding of history. “The Children of Sanctity have spent many a night praying to the Maker, asking for wisdom.” Hyunjin doubted this. Every move was a political one. There had been no prayers. There were no mages. “Three have been chosen.” Another pause, and the crowd began to murmur again. _Three_. Three would be betrothed. One would marry into the royal family. 

“The first, Lee Felix, Prince of Myre,” Seungmin’s voice rang out and the crowd became rowdy, many now voicing their suspicions that this was a political ploy. Hyunjin smirked; he’d thought as much.

“Second, Han Jisung, from the Kingdom of Hamlyne.”

Hyunjin had never heard of him before, and it appeared no one else did. Hyunjin could only guess that this one was someone important in Hamlyne – The Kingdom of the Night, they called it. Despite the wonders of the Kingdom, there were strange rumours about the people of Hamlyne. 

Hyunjin returned his attention to the screen just in time to hear, “Third, Hwang Hyunjin, from the Kingdom of Klythya.”

Hyunjin saw the distress on Changbin’s face, before he himself could fully process what he’d just heard. The crowd around him had erupted into cheers, several hands grabbing at him, trying to congratulate him, trying to get a piece of what might be their future king. And still, Hyunjin just could not process it.

When the Prince continued, the hands retreated and the cheers died down. “A messenger has been dispatched to receive the responses of those who are chosen. Thank you for your attention. Please enjoy the remainder of Harvest.”

The screen went blank. Hyunjin’s mind was still blank. But his mother had her fingers closed around his wrist in a firm grip, pulling him away from the crowd before anyone could delay them.

By the time they reached the gates of the cottage, she was positively bursting with happiness, talking in high pitched tones, and almost forcing him into a jog. 

But she stopped in her tracks, a few feet away from the door, and Hyunjin felt compelled to lift his gaze from the ground. He levelled it instead, on the man who stood outside their door, the red and black uniform identifying him as a Klythyan guard. 

Hyunjin’s brows skyrocketed. “Who are you?”

The middle aged man bowed. “I’m here as an escort for –”

Their cottage door opened, Hyunjin and his mother both jumping back in fright. 

“Oh hello there.”

They both furrowed their brows at the youth who stood in the doorway of _their_ cottage. He wasn’t dressed like the guard. His inky black hair fell over his eyes and he was adorned with a velvet blue doublet, an intricate silver design of leaves woven on the material. Despite the smile on his face, his posture was stoic, poised, almost like he was –

“The Prince!” Hyunjin’s mother exclaimed sinking into a curtsey. “The young Prince of Klythya – Prince Jeongin,” she beamed.

 _Oh_. Hyunjin wondered whether he should bow, but was saved from his dilemma by the Prince who gestured for them to come in. “Please,” his smile was nervous, not as practiced as his posture, but not fake, Hyunjin observed.

The guard remained outside while the Prince closed the door behind them. 

After rejecting Hyunjin’s mother’s offer of refreshments, he looked quite odd sitting at their small kitchen table. They sat opposite him, waiting for him to begin speaking. Hyunjin was rather impatient for him to ask the question. The sooner everyone learned that he’d declined the betrothal, the better.

When the Prince did speak, Hyunjin couldn’t quite understand what was going on. “We need to discuss your travel arrangements to the castle,” he said.

Hyunjin furrowed his brows. “What do you mean? I – Aren’t you going to ask me whether it’s what I want? I mean, I _do_ have a choice –”

“Hyunjin!” his mother snapped. “What are you going on about? You are _not_ going to decline anything!”

Hyunjin shot her a glare and started to argue when the Prince spoke again.

“You _can’t_ decline.”

Hyunjin stared. “That’s not true,” he argued. “Everyone knows that the betrothals have to be accepted by both parties. It can’t happen without my consent.”

“That is true but only for the Prince of Myre, and Han Jisung of Hamlyne.” The prince looked slightly uncomfortable now. “They aren’t citizens of Klythya and aren’t bound by our laws. But you, Hyunjin, are a citizen of our Kingdom. And Klythya’s law requires every citizen to do what is required of them in the Kingdom’s best interests. And the King and Queen have decreed that you are _required_ to accept the betrothal.”

Forced. He was being forced. Hyunjin listened carefully, clenching his fingers into fists. “And if I don’t accept?”

The young prince averted his gaze. “Charges of treason.”

Hyunjin swore under his breath, earning a glare from his mother. He was to be forced into this – forced into a betrothal, and maybe even marriage. His dream of one day becoming a Custodian of the Archive might be just that – a dream. 

The prince cleared his throat. “I’m afraid we must leave at dawn. You have a few hours to pack. Pack only what you need. You will be provided for at the castle.”

Hyunjin pushed his chair back angrily. He started towards his room, but turned to face the prince again. “Charges of treason… Would the punishment be imprisonment?”

When Prince Jeongin looked up at him, his eyes were filled with sympathy, and Hyunjin knew before he could say it. “Death.”

“Get off me.” Jisung zipped up his pants and dropped a bag of silver medallions onto the ground. The male lowered his head in thanks and hugged the bag to his chest. “Get lost and keep your mouth shut,” he ordered, even though he didn’t have to. He flexed his fingers – dragging the long sharpened nail of his index finger over his palm to split the skin open. Bubbling, black blood poured out of the wound.

The whore scrambled away, eyeing the black liquid that had begun to seep from Jisung’s palm, creeping around his wrists, curling around his fingers like vines. His threat accomplished, and with another flex of his fingers, the liquid began to retract back into the skin of his palms, back into his veins until the wound sealed itself. The blood of the Night Folk. 

He wondered whether the servants were done with his packing by now. He’d given them ample time – not out of kindness, but because he needed to have this one last tryst before he left for Klythya. Who knew what the whores there were like? And he was going to be watched so closely that he’d be stupid to risk going into a brothel in the first few weeks. Or maybe he could. Jisung was adept at sneaking around. It was as simple as blending into the shadows – becoming a shadow. An uncanny ability possessed by the Night Folk. 

He wondered whether his soon to be husband was aware of this, and if not, how would he react? The people of Klythya were fairly… normal. _Boring_ , Jisung called it.

When Jisung reached the manor, the servants were still scurrying about. He knew that half the things he’d ordered them to pack were largely unnecessary, but still, he enjoyed having the clutter around him. He just hoped his rooms at the Klythyan castle would be big enough to accommodate him and his belongings.

“Is it necessary to pack _so_ much?” his father asked from his armchair, eyes on a computer screen. 

Jisung rolled his eyes and took a seat in the adjacent armchair. “You have your necessities, father, and I have mine.”

His father glanced at him, in that ever-condescending way that Jisung despised. “I hope you’ve sated your appetite,” he warned, and Jisung was aware he wasn’t talking about food. “The Klythyans have strict laws, especially where betrothals are concerned. Faithfulness is essential.”

“Don’t worry,” Jisung reassured him, unable to keep the annoyance out of his voice. “I want myself on the throne just as much as you do. So trust me,” he smiled slyly at his father. “You’ve taught me well, after all.”

“I hope so,” his father murmured, turning back to his work.

His father had always known Jisung would be one of the chosen. He’d convinced the King of Hamlyne, his dear childhood friend, that being miserly in trade with Klythya would be beneficial. So like the fool he is, the king trusted his advisor and raised Klythya’s import taxes, restricted trade so much that Klythya would be desperate to form an alliance with Hamlyne. 

And what better way to form that alliance than to invite the advisor’s son into their family? Jisung was sure that come what may, he’d be sitting on that throne. 

“I still think you should take a personal guard,” his father said, just when Jisung was beginning to relax. _So fucking annoying_.

“Oh please,” he snorted. “I can take care of myself. I’ve never needed a personal guard no matter how hard you’ve tried to force one on me. Besides, you only want me to have one so you could spy on me. And I’m not having that.”

His father gave him a long look, which he pointedly ignored. “Do not think,” the man told him, his voice soft yet threatening, “that I need your permission for me to know what you do. There may not be someone at your side, but I always know where you are, who you’re fucking, and what you’re planning.”

Jisung pursed his lips. Of course he was aware of this. He’d tried to find out just _how_ his father knew these things but, the Maker be damned, he could never find anything.

One day, he’d pay his father back tenfold. He just needed the Klythyan throne to be his first.


	2. Chapter 2

Hyunjin lifted the curtains a fraction and hurriedly dropped them. Already, the street outside was filled with villagers, all cheering and laughing, waiting to catch a glimpse of the boy who might be king. A few more guards had joined the two posted outside the cottage, their swords drawn in warning to anyone who might approach.

Prince Jeongin had ordered Hyunjin to pack what was absolutely necessary and nothing more. It would be a two days’ journey to the castle and traveling lightly would be in their favour. 

Hyunjin didn’t own many things, and very little of what he owned had any material value – a blank piece of parchment that his father had owned before he died in the flood that marked Hyunjin’s birth, a pretty blue seashell that shimmered in the light – a gift he’d received at the age of eight, from a merchant whom he’d helped pull a cart up an especially steep slope, and a simple bracelet woven from straw – a gift from Changbin.

Something heavy and uneasy settled in his chest at the thought of Changbin. He hadn’t even gotten to say goodbye. It wasn’t as though he’d meant to stay in this village for the rest of his life; he was bound to leave anyway, but he’d always thought that he’d get to say goodbye before he left.

No matter; this wasn’t permanent. Hyunjin knew that it would only be a few weeks, or a month or two at most before he was sent back to the village. There was just no way that he could be the chosen one. 

He placed the bracelet at the bottom of his sack, and then thought better of it, and slipped it onto his wrist instead. The light caramel colour of the straw looked strange against his pale skin but he felt a strange sense of comfort wearing it. Surrounded by strange people in a strange place, it would be a comfort having something familiar with him. 

He took another look at the few items in his sack, rolled his eyes and emptied it out, stuffing the items into his pockets instead. Much more practical. 

“Are you…packed?” When Hyunjin re-entered the kitchen, the prince’s eyes searched for an indication that he was ready to leave.

“I am,” Hyunjin announced, giving the cottage one last glance. Even if he wasn’t looking forward to living at the castle, he wouldn’t miss this; he wouldn’t miss the leaking roof, the mice that lived in the dark parts of the cupboards or the bats that nested in the roofing. 

The prince raised an eyebrow but nodded. “I’ll give you a moment to say goodbye.” He glanced at Hyunjin’s mother. “Lady Hwang, try not to delay. We have a long journey.”

Hyunjin’s mother nodded quickly giving the prince a flustered courtesy which he didn’t notice as he briskly left the room.

Hyunjin stared after him, wondering what life must be like for a young prince. And what life would be like for someone betrothed to a prince. Would he be able to observe and practise their etiquette? Would he able to embrace their culture, their way of living? He doubted it. He’d probably fit in better with the servants than the royal family if the cold demeanour sported by this young prince was anything to go by. Hyunjin wasn’t exceptionally friendly himself, but he was more polite.

“Hyunjin,” his mother embraced him, snapping him out of his depreciative thoughts. “You know how important this is for us, don’t you?” She whispered in his ear. “Think of all that awaits us once you sit on the throne.”

“Mother,” Hyunjin sighed, pulling her hands away from his face. “I wouldn’t hope for much if I were you.” His mother pursed her lips in disapproval. “I’ll probably be sent back soon.”

“Oh, by the Maker, Hyunjin, you don’t know that!” His mother clicked her tongue. “Listen,” she implored, drawing a small bag from within her robe. “The young prince gave me this.  _ Gold _ coin. An entire bag of it, Hyunjin,” her eyes widened in delight. “And they’ll send me a new bag for every month that you’re away.”

Hyunjin almost snorted. What little work he’d managed to find in the village wasn’t worth one gold coin let alone a whole bag a month. His mother was being overpaid. “Use it well. Save as much as you can. I don’t know how long I’ll last.” If his mother was being paid well for his absence, maybe he’d actually attempt making an effort to not get kicked out of the castle.

Their farewells complete, Hyunjin met the prince on the porch. He attempted to ignore the uproar as they stepped out into the garden. Outside the gate was a large carriage, drawn by two massive white horses. The exterior was made of a polished bronze wood and bore the Klythyan coat of arms – a lion with a flaming crown above its mane. Behind the carriages were several more horses, untethered but waiting obediently beside their riders.

The guards had pushed the crowd back several feet down the muddy road, creating enough breathing space for the carriage and its horses. Hyunjin couldn’t help but scan the surrounding faces, looking for  _ him _ , but to no avail. Changbin was either too busy, or too angry to bid Hyunjin farewell.

Hyunjin could see several people whisper and point to the prince. A few seemed to recognize him and were quick to spread word to the others that the dark haired young man walking beside Hyunjin was their young prince. They weren’t to blame for failing to recognize him. While the King, Queen and Crown Prince Seungmin were often presented to them through broadcasts, Prince Jeongin was noticeably absent.

No one questioned his absence. It was the way of the kingdom. It was always the elder who would be given the titles, the honors and the responsibilities, while the younger was free to do as he wished.

But as Hyunjin observed the prince who walked in step with him, he couldn’t help but feel that he was anything but free. Prince Jeongin hung his head as he walked, long black bangs shielding his view of the villagers. More than forlorn, he seemed… ashamed.

_ Of what? _ Hyunjin wondered. 

Hyunjin kept his own head held high, unabashedly meeting the eyes of any who looked at him for too long. He offered some a small smile, and to those who looked at him with scornful envy, he smiled wider. 

They’d all been abhorrent of him – the only boy in the village born on the day of the first flood. But Hyunjin’s mother had more to do with their abhorrence than his birth date. She’d always bragged about how Hyunjin was sure to be one of the chosen. The Maker had favoured him with beauty beyond compare especially for that reason, she’d told anyone who would listen. She coveted rank and riches almost as much as Hyunjin coveted a place at The Archive. 

And how his mother detested his ambition.

She never understood. Hyunjin knew it was his calling. He knew he was destined for great things, but he wouldn’t achieve any of those things sitting on a throne. 

The coachman descended from the front step of the carriage to open the door for Hyunjin and the prince. Hyunjin allowed the prince to enter first, narrowing his eyes at the sullen male. It was almost as if this task was a waste of time to him, and it probably was. There were a multitude of interesting things that a young prince could be doing with his time. But here he was…

The inside of the carriage was soft and plush, with a few blankets draped over the leather seats. And once Hyunjin had seated himself opposite the prince, he realized that it looked far larger from the outside. Hyunjin could barely lean forward without their knees touching, and every time he tried to make himself more comfortable, the prince would flinch back in offence. He was glad when the guards had all mounted their horses and the carriage began to move.

Through the small windows he stared at the following crowd, straining his neck to search for the stableman. Only when they’d reached the end of the road did Hyunjin sit back, tired of looking for the man who hadn’t bothered to come looking for him.

He realized, rather belatedly, that two days was no short span of time, and that he should’ve brought with him some form of entertainment. Not that he had much besides Changbin. But he should’ve thought to bring along an old book at least. 

He studied the prince who seemed content to stare out of the window. Hyunjin wondered if he was going to spend the entire journey that way. He was strange. Not many would miss the opportunity to be stuck in a carriage with Hyunjin. Those who liked girls, those who liked boys, those who liked both, those who were betrothed, those who were married, those who had never had a lover – Hyunjin drew them all in. He was, as his mother always boasted, exceptionally beautiful. Save for a spot beneath his eye, he was unblemished. No matter how much or how little he ate, his body was perfectly sculpted. He’d never done manual labour in his life, yet somehow, the muscles on his body had grown defined as he aged into an adult. Effortlessly beautiful was what he was. But this young prince hadn’t seemed to notice that.

They’d been on the road for ten minutes when the prince finally looked away from the window, and to Hyunjin’s surprise began to undo the buttons on his doublet, shaking it free from his shoulders and discarding it onto the floor. Hyunjin didn’t blame him for this. It was stiflingly hot, and he had half a mind to discard his own jacket now, but then it would seem as if he was trying to imitate the prince and he would never allow the boy prince that much credit.

“Sorry,” the prince murmured as their knees knocked together again. His eyes flickered to Hyunjin’s and he quickly looked away again, gaze fixed on the window. “The carriage was meant to be for you only.”

Hyunjin hadn’t expected an explanation and stared, waiting for him to continue.

“One of my guardsmen received word of a possible….” He chewed on his lower lip as he attempted to collect his thoughts. “Possible trouble.”

Trouble? Hyunjin tilted his head. Had they perhaps heard word of a storm coming up from the east? Hyunjin was always quick to sense a storm; it only took a whiff of the air. But he hadn’t sensed anything yet. He sighed, “It’s fine.” And after a heartbeat added, “Your Highness.” He didn’t want to seem in contempt of the royal family.

The prince opened his mouth as if to reply, but decided that his time would be better spent staring out of the window again.

Hyunjin closed his eyes. With no entertainment, and no conversation, even the unnecessary polite kind, he had nothing better to do than to sleep.

But he couldn’t. Restlessness had seated itself in his centre, preventing him from falling asleep. He resigned himself to looking out of the window. The village was small and within twenty minutes, they had reached the outskirts. 

To Hyunjin’s confusion, the procession began to slow and the steady clutter of hooves abruptly fell away. He flinched when the carriage door opened but the prince didn’t seem surprised.

“Your Highness,” the guard bowed his head. “We have ten minutes until we reach the forest.”

The prince gave him a curt nod. “Thank you, Officer Myeon.” And the officer began to shut the door, but not before Hyunjin saw it – the black dog following close behind. It had a rabid look. Its dark fur stood on end and its eyes were bloodshot. But the officer, Myeon, seemed comfortable with its presence.

_ No _ , Hyunjin realized with wide eyes, he wasn’t comfortable – he was  _ unaware _ of the dog’s presence. When he stared out of the window, straining to get a look at the procession, he could not find the dog.

“Have you ever been away from your village?”

Hyunjin shrugged, turning warily to the prince. “I’ve had no reason to. Your Highness,” he’d almost forgotten to add.

“So you haven’t been to the forest,” the prince nodded to himself in confirmation. “But you know what it’s called, and why?”

“The Forest of Chimera,” Hyunjin nodded, scrunching his nose and trying to remember the reason for its name. “In school they told us that it was named for Peter Chimera, the foreign man who first built a settlement there.”

The prince scoffed, obviously unimpressed with this answer. “By the Maker, that’s ridiculous!”

“What do you mean?” Hyunjin asked, significantly annoyed and slightly embarrassed. “Is that wrong?”

“There was no  _ Peter Chimera _ ,” the prince waved away the idea, a hint of amusement in his voice. “The people who lived in those woods were otherworldly. They practised an art forbidden in this kingdom.”

“The occult,” Hyunjin’s mouth felt dry. He instinctively wrapped his arms around himself as if it would shield the strange magic that lurked inside him.

Prince Jeongin nodded. “Long ago, when my grandparents ruled they executed every person who lived in those woods on charges of dabbling in the occult. They say the woods are cursed now, dangerous to anyone who might enter. People who go in see all kinds of things, things that drive them insane. We call it the Forest of Chimera because –”

“Chimera means fantasy. An illusion,” Hyunjin finished for him.

The prince seemed impressed that Hyunjin knew that at least. “As we pass the forest, keep the blinds down, do not look out of the window, and never leave the carriage. We have to remain on the road at all costs. The Children of Sanctity blessed the road that runs past the edge of the forest. They say that anyone who practises witchcraft, who dabbles in the forbidden, will not be able to step onto the road.”

Hyunjin’s eyes widened. “What do you mean? What would happen if – if someone who practises witchcraft steps onto the road?”

“I don’t know what would happen,” the prince shrugged and then huffed out a laugh. “Perhaps they would burn.”

Hyunjin’s heart began to fill with dread. Maybe it was just an old wife’s tale. Maybe it didn’t apply to him anyway. After all, he didn’t consider his gifts  _ witchcraft _ . But then, people had been burned at the stake for much less than having visions. He didn’t want to die. 

“Are you alright?” the prince sounded concerned. “You seem… sick.”

Hyunjin nodded quickly. “Yes, I’m… I feel quite sick.” He looked at the prince with wide, frightened eyes. “I think the carriage is too warm, too stifling. I can hardly breathe.”

The prince looked baffled. “But we’re – we’re almost… If you travel by horseback there’s a chance that you may fall off and even just a hair of yours in the forest would be enough to cause you harm. There are evil things in there.”

Hyunjin shook his head. He had an idea. He just needed to get out. “Please. I think I’m going to be sick inside this carriage if I’m not let out immediately.”

This seemed to set things in motion, because the prince hurriedly knocked on the scabbard behind him, getting the attention of the coachman’s attention. The carriage came to a halt and so did the garrison surrounding them.

“Your Highness, we’ve nearly reached the road,” Officer Myeon remarked as he opened the door. “Is something the matter?”

Hyunjin didn’t wait for permission as he pushed past the officer. 

“Get him a horse,” he heard the prince say as he followed.

There were a few shuffles and murmurs as they squabbled about which guard would give up their horse. All the while, Hyunjin kept his gaze on the road ahead. Unlike the dirt road they’d been traveling along, the road ahead was red cobblestone. The blessed road.

He eyed the edge of the forest, the tall evergreens beckoning to him with their swaying branches. If he didn’t stray too far from the road and kept his horse at a canter he would be able to meet the procession at the end. 

He ran a hand over the mare’s chestnut mane. He wasn’t an exceptional rider. He’d only ridden a few times, and that had been with Changbin holding the reins. 

“Are you sure that you’re able to ride?”

Hyunjin’s nerves must have been on full display. He shot the prince a half-embarrassed scowl. “I can ride.” Somewhat. 

All he had to do was get the horse into the forest, and from there, it would be a straight gallop.

He hopped onto the saddle, swinging a leg over the bulky mare. When he seemed steady enough, the prince backed away, beginning a discussion with one of the guards. 

Hyunjin took the opportunity to dig his right knee into the horse’s flank, tugging back on the reins and causing the confused mare to rear up on her hindlegs. He held on tightly, hoping that the horse seemed crazed enough to the gaping garrison. It took everyone a few moments to gather that Hyunjin was in trouble, but by then he’d already urged the horse to shoot wildly into the forest ahead.

There were shouts of surprise behind him and he looked over his shoulder to see the prince yelling at the men to make after Hyunjin. But none moved. They would not step into the cursed woods.

Hyunjin planned on leading the horse through the forest and waiting at the end of the road. He’d tell them he managed to calm down the spooked horse.

He turned to the front, gasping in surprise at the sudden lack of light. The trees reached out to each other, forming a canopy above his head and preventing light from reaching the fauna and flora below. The air was abuzz with the sound of insects and birds chattering in the branches and among the plants that grew wildly over the tree roots. 

He pulled on the reins, forcing the horse to stop as he gathered his bearings. It had seemed so simple from the outside, but now that he was within, the way ahead looked complex. Perhaps he’d led the horse too far inside, because when he peered between the thick tree trunks he couldn’t catch even a glimpse of the road.

He touched his neck, but he hadn’t worn a necklace. He’d thought that the fancy jacket would be elaborate enough. He regretted it now. He had nothing to help him find his way. A simple swing of a necklace and he would have been on his merry way.

He breathed in, slowly exhaling, trying to think clearly. He’d just have to trust that the horse would know its way out. But how likely would that be? And what would happen if the horse decided to take him straight out onto that blessed road? Would he catch fire and burn to ash? Or would he suffer immeasurable pain and alert everyone to the fact that he was unnatural? They’d burn him for sure.

He hopped down from the horse, keeping his fingers closed around the reins as he took trepid steps forward. Twigs snapped beneath his feet, echoing throughout. He looked over his shoulder. No one had come after him. He could hear no one calling for him. They all must have been pretty spooked.

A few more steps forward and he staggered back in surprise when the horse whinnied and wrenched itself free from his grip and shot off deeper into the forest.

“Fuck,” Hyunjin swore, losing sight of the mare. He had no choice but to continue on foot now. 

He heard it then – the steady trickle of a stream. And suddenly, he realized how parched he was. If there was a river, he could follow it and… He sighed. In stories didn’t people always follow rivers and end up where they were supposed to end up? He may as well try.

He couldn’t help feeling as though Changbin would have known what to do in a situation like this. He wouldn’t have made any rash decisions. He would’ve calmed Hyunjin down and laid out his options for him, logically moving through the pros and cons of each, and ultimately – Hyunjin smiled at this – he would’ve done what Hyunjin wanted anyway.

He shook his head. He shouldn’t be thinking of Changbin. He was trapped in a supposedly cursed forest and thinking of his – his friend – would not help him.

As he moved closer to the sound of water his chest began to feel lighter.  _ A way out _ , a childish voice kept whispering in his ear. It was joined by a chorus of voices, old and young.  _ It’s your way out _ , they told him.

He blinked rapidly, wondering whether he was hallucinating. Had he gone feverish? But the voices only grew louder.

Feeling disoriented and dizzy, Hyunjin stumbled through a copse of trees. But what he found was no rushing river. It was a small stream, the water running in thin lines over moss covered rocks. The trees had joined to create a small glade, its banks steep but not steep enough to stop Hyunjin from clambering down to the stream. He scooped water into his hands, and drank what he could. He strained his neck to see where the stream might lead, but it was far too dark. Still, he’d have to end up somewhere if he followed it. 

But not now. Overcome with a sudden bout of exhaustion, he flopped down onto the bank. He stretched his body out, sighing in contentment at the cushion of reeds and moss providing him with the perfect bed.

Jeongin was frantic with worry. It was the first time he’d been charged with something of importance and it had gone so horribly wrong. Why hadn’t the commoner just admitted that he didn’t know how to ride a horse? And what kinds of guards had Jeongin chosen to accompany him? A bunch of cowards. Only one – Officer Myeon – had followed. Jeongin had left the officer alone for two minutes while he searched a thicket of trees, and when he’d returned, the officer was nowhere to be found.

It was dark. Jeongin had to strain his eyes to see. Even the sword that hung at his side, the sword that had never lost him a battle, did not bring him courage this night. He’d been searching for more than an hour, trying to navigate the shadows. His own mare had long since abandoned him, spooked by something invisible to Jeongin. Fear gripped his heart – not fear for his life, but rather, fear that he’d failed.

He couldn’t imagine what his parents would think of him if he failed to bring back his brother’s betrothed. They’d never trust him with anything again. Stopping to catch his breath, he leaned against a tree trunk, tired, cold and hopeless. He hung his head. How could he go back without Hyunjin?

He couldn’t.

He raised his head, and what he saw made him blink rapidly.  _ Footprints _ . Footprints that under no ordinary circumstances should be visible.

But there they were, shimmering in the undergrowth, like a million little stars fallen to earth, forming the shape of footprints, and leading on into the heart of the forest.

He knew that it would be folly to follow them. But all logical thought suddenly seemed out of reach. Entranced, he reached the first footprint, gasping when it faded before his eyes. They all faded as he crossed over them, going further and further into the forest. 

Just as he came upon a clearing, he heard the trickling sound of water and saw the stream. He’d studied the maps well enough to recognize it and recall that it would lead him straight out of the forest. 

He stumbled down the slope, looking at the stream veering off in the distance and wishing he’d kept a firmer grip on his horse’s reins. 

He bit his tongue on an exclamation as he spotted Hyunjin, sound asleep, much like a nymph on the bank. It was as though he belonged amongst the wild plants that curled around his feet. He face was as peaceful in sleep, as a blossom resting upon the ground. His jacket lay discarded a few feet away and the shirt he wore was unbuttoned and hanging off his shoulders, exposing the expanse of his muscular abdomen. Jeongin stood with bated breath, waiting, uncertain what he should do.

But to his surprise, Hyunjin’s eyelids begun to flutter open, and he slowly sat up, his eyes dazed. 

“Hyunjin?” Jeongin approached cautiously, kneeling down at the foot of the slope. “Are you hurt?”

Hyunjin fixed his gaze on Jeongin, and crawled forward, rising up on his knees. Jeongin imagined they would look quite strange, two men kneeling before each other.

He flinched when Hyunjin raised a hand, not expecting the commoner to place a hand on his cheek. And when Hyunjin placed a featherlight kiss on his lips, Jeongin froze, his breath hitching. His first instinct was to pull away, and he did but only for a fraction of a second. Something had overpowered every instinct, every semblance of morality – something so fervently inherent, that his body and mind surrendered to it without a fight.

Jeongin surged forward, claiming Hyunjin with a kiss of his own. It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t soft or searching – it was wild, unchecked and unleashing. The taste of him, the heat of Hyunjin radiating beneath Jeongin’s fingers as he traced the contours of his muscled stomach, marvelling at the softness of his skin… It made him tremble.

Jeongin’s hands shot into Hyunjin’s hair, pulling him closer, both of them ravenous, unable to get enough of the other. But it was Hyunjin who pulled away first, leaving Jeongin with a surge of desperation. He needed to feel Hyunjin, to hold him, to share every breath with him. 

He watched with furrowed brows, as Hyunjin raised a hand, pointing at the stream. “Drink,” he whispered, his voice filled with exhaustion. “Drink, my prince.”

Jeongin nodded with wide eyes. Drink. He had to drink. If Hyunjin wanted him to, he’d drink.

The water felt cool, quenching a thirst he hadn’t realized had been present. He drank two mouthfuls, before stepping away from the stream. 

And when he turned around, he gasped in surprise. Hyunjin was asleep as Jeongin had found him earlier. But his shirt was buttoned, his jacket snug around him. Not a hair was out of place. It was as though Jeongin had imagined the whole thing.

Had he?

He touched a finger to his lips.  _ Was this all a dream? Some kind of illusion? _ For a second, he felt the onset of disappointment, until he realized that it had better have been a dream! Hyunjin was betrothed to his brother! This was treason!

How could he have let such a thing happen?

_ But had it? Had it happened? _

He looked at Hyunjin, asleep so peacefully. And felt the urge to lie beside him, to fall into a sleep just as deep. So he did.

Hyunjin woke with a start, taking a solid minute to gauge his surroundings, and recall the events that led to him falling asleep in a bed of moss. He was about to rise to his feet, when he saw something impossibly difficult to fathom.

Prince Jeongin.

Prince Jeongin was lying beside him, curled up and sound asleep. It was difficult to understand why he hadn’t woken Hyunjin once he’d found him. Perhaps he’d also been very tired…

Hyunjin took the opportunity to study the prince. He was beyond a doubt, quite handsome. His jaw was angular and sharp. With his mouth set in a slight pout, the dimple on his cheek wasn’t prominent. Hyunjin wondered what it looked like when he smiled – really smiled. He’d seen a morsel of a genuine smile back at the cottage, but it wasn’t nearly enough. He was a sad prince, Hyunjin concluded, a deeply unhappy prince.

He let out a shriek when he felt something nudge his shoulder from behind and felt a wave of relief when he saw the mare behind him. “You found me,” he whispered, chuckling, and reaching up to stroke her silky coat. 

And to his surprise, behind her stood another mare, darker in colour. He had no doubt that it belonged to the prince’s garrison. 

He turned to the sleeping prince, backing away when heard a groan. 

The prince woke, just as startled as Hyunjin was. “What?” he rubbed his eyes, looking around and finally settling his gaze on Hyunjin. “You’re awake.” His eyes flickered to the horses in surprise. “How…?”

Hyunjin shrugged. “I don’t know. I woke and they were here.”

“And you…” the prince narrowed his eyes suspiciously, “You… Do you remember?”

“Remember?” Hyunjin frowned, trying to recall what it was exactly the prince would expect him to remember. “Your Highness, I don’t…”

“Nevermind,” the prince said quickly as he rose to his feet. “We have horses. If we follow the stream, it’s our way out.”

_ I told you _ , the voice whispered in Hyunjin’s ear,  _ it’s your way out. _

They were seated in Chan’s cabin. Felix’s parents, the King and Queen of Myre, had boarded  _ The Compass _ a few minutes ago.

“They just want to have a word with you,” Chan had reassured him when Felix had begun pacing the deck, a nervous wreck. “You’re about to sail into new territory. They’re your parents. They want to steer you in the correct direction.”

But although his parents had greeted him with warm smiles, his own smile had been strained. Felix could not and would not return their affection while they were stripping him of his freedom.

He could see the worry in his mother’s eyes as she cast him furtive glances from where he sat looking at the gentle lull of the waves through the window. His father, whose belly had grown alarmingly large in the year since their last meeting, hovered over a map, Chan at his side.

For an hour, his parents and his captain had been engaged in a discussion below deck. When Chan had called Felix in, he looked distressed, and immediately the prince knew that something had gone wrong. 

He stared at his captain now. He stood stoic and expressionless beside the king. Today, he would not be Felix’s best friend. Today he was Bang Chan, Deputy Commander of the Royal Sea Guard of Myre, and personal guard to Lee Felix, Prince of Myre. Today, in front of the King and Queen of Myre, both would have to mind their respective roles.

“Why did you want to speak to me?” Felix grew impatient and could no longer hide his displeasure. “I didn’t expect you to sail from Myre. You could have sent your well-wishes with a Pyrgrene. Just as you sent me your orders.” Yes, he could play the petty, pampered prince when he wanted to.

“We  _ are _ here to wish you well,” his father smiled, ignoring his insolence. “But we’re also here to give further directive.”

“Directive?” Felix was wary now. “What directive? Mother?” he looked at his mother for an indication that she knew of this. 

“Felix, darling,” his mother’s lips curved into a nervous smile. She was a beautiful woman. Her long white hair had turned to silver as she aged, but the glacial blue of her eyes remained bright. “We’re finally going to have what’s ours.”

“And what is that?” he enquired, looking at Chan now. But the captain still stared down at the map, a pen in one hand as he marked several spots.

“The ocean, my lovely little prince,” his mother sighed. 

His father scoffed, “You love the ocean so, yet you do not know that it is yours?”

“I – I don’t understand,” Felix frowned. “The Myrean Sea is ours. I know that much.”

“But what of the rest?” his father asked, gesturing to the map. “We are of the ocean, Felix. It is our  _ home _ and the home of our ancestors. And this marriage between you and the prince of Klythya will allow us to take back what was taken from us.”

“And how will marriage win you the ocean?” Felix looked at his father skeptically, trying to stifle a laugh. The thought of going to war over an ocean was preposterous and hardly worth a marriage.

“We are simple people, and we are few, son,” his father sighed wearily. “We have sailors and ships, but only the Royal Sea Guard can stand in battle and they are only but a handful. With you on the Klythyan throne, we have the Klythyan army and their weapons at our disposal and we  _ will _ succeed.”

“So you’re going to make me sit in a castle of stone while you fight over the ocean!” Felix shook his head. “I will not agree to these foolish things! I would rather dwell happily within a small piece of the ocean rather than cage myself in stone while you go to war over the entirety of it!”

“You will lower your voice,” his father said, sternly but gently. “It is not foolish to want what we are owed. For centuries, people have claimed land as their own, and taken for granted that the ocean would be in their ownership too. Myre is a small country. We have had no choice but to let it happen.”

“But now is the time of the sea people,” his mother nodded, and he couldn’t help but notice the sombreness that settled over her features. She rose to her feet and placed a hand on Felix’s shoulder. “This cannot be delayed.”

His father’s smile turned menacing, “They’ve pillaged the lands and used  _ our _ seas to do it. We just want to take command of what is ours. It’s what we owe to our ancestors. There will be no fighting. Once they all see that our forces outnumber theirs, the war will be over before it has even started.”

“And you’re using me to do it,” Felix’s realization was swift and he recoiled from his mother’s touch. They were brokering him in exchange for the ocean. “You’re going to take away my freedom because of your greed –”

“Greed!” his father’s voice boomed, sending a shiver up his spine. “There is no greed in taking what belongs to us! And  _ you _ speak of freedom?” he narrowed his eyes at his son. “We have given you freedom for as long as we could, more freedom than you deserved! We knew that this day would come and we’ve waited for it. We’ve planned for it since your birth! But you’ve had time enough to enjoy yourself and go on your little sea adventures. The payment for your freedom must begin now, Felix.”

“You’ve  _ planned _ this?” Felix could hardly speak. He felt betrayed. All this time, they’ve tempted him with eternal freedom, whilst plotting to take it away from him. He stared at his captain now. “Ch –” He corrected himself. “Deputy Commander, have you known about this?”

Chan had stopped writing but didn’t look at him.  _ Wouldn’t _ .

“Of course he knew,” his mother clicked her tongue. “I had to have you looked after, Felix.”

“And,” his father continued, “the Deputy Commander kept you safe and happy for us. We could not have our only hope of regaining our fortune, harming himself on futile adventures.”

“You’ve all been raising me like a lamb for slaughter.” The realization pierced his chest like a spear aimed at his heart. 

“An exaggeration,” his father waved away his accusation with an easy smile. “Marriage is hardly slaughter,” he grinned at his wife. “And then, Prince Seungmin is your childhood friend, is he not? Who could be a better match for you?”

Chan met his gaze now, but Felix looked away. Who could be a better match for him? His captain? His captain, who has been at his side for years, not as his best friend as Felix had believed, but as a child-minder, there to keep the King and Queen’s bargaining chip safe; his captain, who Felix loved like no other, but who would keep Felix in a prison of stone to satisfy the whims of his parents; his captain, who even now, Felix could not hate despite his aching heart.

Felix sat in the gully of  _ The Compass _ , his knees drawn up and his chin resting upon them. 

Chan knew he longed to be in the sea, that it would comfort him better than anything else, but he could not permit it. The Klythyan port was already in sight, and the prince would not make a good impression if he arrived drenched in water.

Before departing, the King and Queen had left orders for Felix to be courteous, refined and charming. Her Grace, the Queen had dressed Felix herself. It was strange for Chan to see him in the well-fitted outfit of dyed blue silk and ermine, instead of the usual loose cotton that billowed in the wind as he hung off the mast. Chan too, was dressed in the livery of the Royal Sea Guard, the badge upon his breast declaring him as the Deputy Commander.

He’d been sitting at Felix’s side for an hour already, yet the prince had yet to say a word. Chan had seen it – the look of betrayal when he found out. And Chan didn’t blame him. How could he? Felix was probably convinced now that their friendship was false. He was probably questioning every word Chan had ever said to him, and every moment they had spent together.

He was startled when Felix finally spoke. “Deputy Commander,” the prince’s voice rang clear over the sound of the waves rising up against the hull. “Were you ever more than that? Were you ever more than my parents’ puppet? Or did you grasp my hand as a child and offer me friendship at their behest?” 

“I was sixteen when your parents gifted me this ship,” Chan spoke, glad of the opportunity to rid himself of the lies. “You were there. You saw it. But when my father and your parents drew me away to talk, I understood it was not merely a gift. They asked me to show you freedom, to give you as much of it as you desire, to let you live as you please. So that when they required you to take the Kingdom of Klythya, you would not find cause to deny them.”

“A lamb raised for slaughter,” Felix repeated his earlier remark, and Chan did not argue with him. Because he was not wrong. “Do you remember our first meeting?”

In truth, Chan had thought of it often. It was not something he could forget. 

Perhaps Chan took too long to answer, because the prince continued, “I remember it like yesterday. We were just boys. I had seen your father come to court many times. He had a stern look about him, and I would hide behind my mother’s skirts whenever my father invited him to dine with us. Until one day, my father summoned me. He said I was to learn how to sail, how to be a man of the sea, and that his friend was to teach me. He said that there was no one better, and that his friend too knew someone like me, someone who had more of the sea in them than the rest of our people. But the idea of living with your father… Oh, it was scary. Even if I was to…” he stared down at his hands, “Even if I was to learn more about myself and the things I could do, for a boy no older than eight it was scary.”

Chan listened, unwilling to interrupt, and not knowing what to make of this sudden talk of the past. The ship rocked now as the impulsion of the waves increased in ferocity. They recognized Felix’s anguish. They empathized with him.

“And then I saw your father’s ship and it suddenly became even more daunting. It was the grandest ship I’ve ever seen, and I was to be captained by the scariest captain I’d ever met,” the prince gave a bland chuckle. “Your father left me on the deck alone, to ruminate, to take in my new home. I must have been so scared, because I started crying.”

And Chan remembered it well. As he closed his eyes, he could see it form in his mind, like the fine strokes of a paintbrush. He’d been eleven years old, and perhaps that was the first time Chan had ever known beauty.

They’d said Chan’s mother was beautiful, but she’d died just as he had breathed life and his father had burned every image of her in his grief. They also said that the Myrean queen was beautiful but Chan had glimpsed her long enough to know that she was as pretty as a child’s doll, but no more than that.

But that boy, that sea prince that leaned over the bough, was as beautiful as a sprite if they ever existed. The boy’s head was bowed, silky white hair falling over his face, long, but not long enough to hide the tears that fell like crystals into the foaming sea below. He’d been in awe. Felix had fixed his eyes on Chan’s face, and Chan could not look away. 

And years later, Chan could still not look away from Felix. 

“You held my hand,” Felix looked at him now, and Chan saw that his eyes were sparkling with tears. “That was all you did. You held my hand. And it made all the difference. But now I wish you never did. I wish I never considered you a friend. I wish you never became my best friend and my only friend. I wish I never trusted you. I wish I never l–” he stopped and looked away. 

“I didn’t know, Lix,” Chan looked at him imploringly, reaching for his hand, and wincing when Felix recoiled from his touch. “I didn’t know what they wanted from you until years later.”

“And still, you said nothing!” Felix glared, cobalt eyes flashing with anger. 

“I had orders not to say anything. And you know how I feel about honor, about loyalty,” he looked down at his hands, suddenly wishing his father hadn’t shaped him into the loyal man that he’d become. “I knew this day would come,” Chan said softly. “I dreaded the day you would find out. I dreaded the day you would think of me as a traitor. And I dreaded the day I would take you to your prison.”

Felix’s laugh was surprising and loud, but humourless. “Do you want to know the worst of it, Chan? The worst of it is that they  _ would have _ been right. I have lived. I have been free. I’ve had so much of freedom that  _ I would have  _ understood that it came with a price. There was a time I would have found no cause to deny them their wishes. But it’s too late now. Because I have found it. I have found the thing – the person – that makes me crave eternal freedom.”

“The person…?” Chan furrowed his brows, not understanding, not daring to understand. He wouldn’t dare think such things. He wouldn’t dare to presume.

“Do you not see my love for you?” Felix was aghast, his voice a whisper. “Or do you refuse to see it?”

_ Love? _ Chan exhaled at the admission.

Above them the crew was bustling, preparing the ship to drop anchor at the port which was now within sight. Yet Felix and Chan sat without awareness, each staring into the eyes of the other, seeing nothing but each other, each feeling nothing but the breath of the other, so close that if either moved, their lips would brush. And oh, how Chan wanted that. How he’d dreamed of it. 

“I know you don’t feel the same, but would you at least indulge me before I am given to another?”

Chan’s heart thudded loudly at the request. He had been so wanting of Felix’s touch that now he started to think that he could allow it, just once, he could allow himself that pleasure. Once, just once. He didn’t have to confess his feelings. He didn’t have to complicate things further. But he could indulge himself. Once.

The kiss was as gentle as the brush of a feather. The prince’s lips tasted of salt. And when his tongue began to caress Chan’s, gentle, curious licks, Chan gave a small groan of desire. Felix dropped his head, kissing Chan’s neck, once, twice, thrice, until Chan came to his senses.

“No,” he whispered, even as Felix’s tongue traced his jaw. And then loud enough to make the prince pause, “No more than this.”

Chan did not have to see the sky to know that a storm was coming. Felix’s eyes clouded, the dusky blue, fading into a stormy grey to reflect the sky just as the ocean did. A storm was coming, and along with it, a sense of foreboding that a made a shudder run through Chan’s body.

“Should we saddle the prince’s horse?” the young pageboy asked, clambering up to where Minho stood at the edge of the ramparts.

“No,” Minho shook his head in reply. Dark clouds loomed in the distance. A storm. If he had it his way, his prince would be safely kept in his bedchamber, away from the storm. But the sea prince was due to arrive at the port soon and it would be an insult for Prince Seungmin not to be there to receive him. “Ready a carriage, even if it is a short distance. Make sure it’s warm. We don’t want His Grace falling ill.”

“Sir, one more question, if I may?” The pageboy seemed hesitant but Minho turned away from the sky once more. 

“You may.”

“The party that went out to escort the peasant –” he flushed, “– I mean, the prince’s betrothed from the old town – has there been any news?”

Minho narrowed his eyes. “News of the rumoured rebellion, you mean.” He’d spoken to his commander at length about the dangers of letting young Prince Jeongin leave with rumours of a rebellion so rife. The people were unhappy, and there was no telling what they might do if a young prince fell into their hands. But Minho’s commander was a stubborn middle aged man who took his orders straight from the King and refused to think for himself.

He could only hope that Prince Jeongin would swiftly and safely escort the peasant boy to the castle and not harm himself in the process. A two days’ journey could be shortened if they made haste, but it could be lengthened at the smallest of troubles. 

“Perhaps they were just rumours,” he hoped. But he knew it was unlikely. They’d had to squash several small uprisings in the past three months alone. People were growing bolder.  _ His people _ , he would have said years ago, but to say it now would mean treason.

The boy took his leave and Minho began to finish his walk along the ramparts, checking that the soldiers he’d stationed had not fallen asleep or resorted to playing games. His duties done, he made his way back to Seungmin’s bedchamber. 

“Lee Minho.”

Minho clenched his fingers into fists at the voice of his commander. “Commander Shin,” he turned and bowed stiffly. “How can I serve you?”

The sturdy man looked down at him, his bulging eyes ever-furious. “You ordered a carriage to be brought out for the prince? He was to  _ ride _ out! A show of youth and strength was what King Jumin ordered of his son!”

Minho bit back an angry retort and tried to keep his voice level as he spoke to the towering man. “With all due respect, Commander, a storm is expected and we cannot risk the prince’s health. There will be neither youth nor strength to show if he arrives at the docks coughing and sneezing. I am sure that someone of your… astute intellect can understand this.”

The Commander bristled at this but even he could not deny that Minho was correct. “Very well,” he growled. “I’ll speak to the king.”

And he would most likely credit himself for the idea too. But that was fine with Minho, as long as his prince remained healthy. “Thank you, Commander.”

“And you will remember your station and refrain from giving orders,” the red-faced man snapped before turning on his heel.

Minho refrained from pointing out that the soldiers were all so afraid of their ill-tempered commander that they sent through their questions and requests through Minho.

Minho was a hundred times the commander that Shin was, yet he would never ascend to that level of authority. His blood alone crafted him as a warrior, and a leader. He glanced at the rings on his left hand – a reminder of his fixed rank.

The hallway to Seungmin’s bedchamber was empty save for the blazing torches within sconces which lined the passage, the flickering shadows of their flames dancing upon the walls. Just as Minho reached the double doors, they opened, revealing a maid with several coats bundled in her arms. 

“Oh there you are, Officer Lee,” she gave him a bow. “His Grace has been looking for you all morning. And…” she hesitated, “His Grace is in a foul mood.”

Minho inwardly sighed as he closed the doors behind him, bolting them and bracing himself for the prince’s wrath. His prince usually had a sunny disposition, friendly and warm, but when things didn't 

go his way he could be petty and foul-tempered. 

“Where were you?”

Seungmin was seated in front of the mirror, a rich purple shirt half buttoned, hung off his shoulders. His mouth pressed into a thin line as he met Minho’s gaze through the mirror.

“Doing my duties as an officer of your army,” Minho answered carefully. “I told you, my prince. Didn’t I? You know I have duties that I –”

He stopped midsentence and watched as Seungmin rose out of his seat, striding purposefully towards him. He slammed Minho back against the doors, pinning his wrists above his head. “And what about your duties to me?” his voice was soft, a cool whisper against Minho’s lips, yet threatening. “What about  _ me _ ?”

Minho’s lips curved into a smile at the heat radiating from the prince’s body, and paid no attention to the unspoken threat. “Seungmin,” he barely used the prince’s name, even when he’d been asked countless times by the prince himself to cast away formalities when they were alone. But he’d use it now as means of placation. “You know your safety is important to me. If I don’t secure your home, I leave you open to danger, and I could never forgive myself if something happened to you, my love.”

Seungmin’s gaze softened and he dipped his head to brush a soft kiss over Minho’s lips. But when he pulled away, his stare was hostile once more and he whipped around, heading back to perch on the chair in front of his large ornate mirror. 

_ Oh, my spoiled, irascible prince,  _ Minho looked at him in adoration, and then at the room.

Clothes were strewn about on the floor and several boxes of jewelled cuffs and necklaces lay haphazardly upon the bed. He’d given the maids a difficult time today, Minho gathered from the mess. Seungmin enjoyed order, and when he was ill-tempered enough to leave his chambers in chaos, it spoke volumes.

“What’s bothering you, my prince?” Minho asked, stepping over the mess to stand behind the prince’s chair. 

“I heard the maids talking.” He looked down at his hands as he spoke, a sign that his temper was already waning, displaced by something else. “They said that you were seen with a serving woman this morning.”  _ Jealousy and insecurity _ , Minho realized.

He placed his hands on Seungmin’s shoulders, a gesture he wouldn’t dare attempt in the company of others. “Don’t misunderstand. The girl was asked to fetch water from the well. Her hands were weak and I helped.”

Seungmin raised his eyes to meet Minho’s through the glass. “I heard that she was pretty. Is that all you did? Helped her to fetch water?”

“That was all,” Minho confirmed, pressing down on his shoulders. “Why do you let yourself be drawn into the foolish talk of bored maids?”

Seungmin looked away, seemingly thinking of an answer. “Because I am afraid,” he admitted. “When I am married, you will be free to do so as well. And I don’t think I can stand it.”

“Hush,” Minho shook his head. “I will never. There will never be anyone but you. You are being forced to marry, but I have a choice, and I choose not to.”

Seungmin beamed at this, and then his smile fell away. “Oh I am selfish, aren’t I?”

“I don’t think that you are,” Minho said truthfully. There had been an invisible line drawn between them since Minho had stepped foot into the castle. It was neither Seungmin’s fault nor his – it was just a matter of poor luck that one had been born a prince, and the other born to serve him.

He glanced at the doors to make sure they were bolted before placing himself on Seungmin’s lap. With his arms around Seungmin’s neck, and Seungmin’s arms around his waist, he captured his prince’s lips with his own.

When he pulled back, Seungmin attempted to chase his lips, but he shook his head. “You have to be ready to leave soon.”

“How soon?” Seungmin groaned. “Surely, we have a little more time.”

Minho hesitated. “Well…” he glanced at the east-facing window. “When the tower bell chimes five, we’re meant to leave.”

“Enough time then,” Seungmin said decidedly, already undoing the remaining buttons on his shirt. 

Minho chuckled. “You understand that while  _ you _ will be traveling in a carriage today, I will be on horseback?” 

“So what?” Seungmin smiled mischievously. “Maybe I want your pretty cock inside me again.”

Minho flushed at his prince’s vulgarity. “Again? But last night…” Just last night, Seungmin had honoured Minho’s request to stay inside his prince for as long as possible. It was rare for Seungmin to allow that again so soon. It wasn’t often that Minho got to have his way with Seungmin.

“I want to feel you again,” Seungmin argued, undoing Minho’s belt now, his deft fingers matching the desperation in his voice. “I need you inside me.”

“You  _ do _ realize that we don’t have nearly enough time for me to remove all of my armor?”

Seungmin shrugged. “No matter. I’ll make do. Now stop stalling!”

Within minutes, the jewels that had lain upon the bed were scattered amongst the clothes on the floor, and Seungmin was arching his back onto the bed as Minho moved inside him. Sweat trickled down the side of his face as he urged Minho deeper, hooking his ankles into the armor on his back, his fingers unclenching from the sheets to reach up and grab a fistful of Minho’s hair. They devoured each other with nips and thrusting tongues, struggling to breathe yet never feeling more alive.

Seungmin looked like a sweaty, flushed mess and Minho loved it. He loved him. He trembled every time Seungmin arched into him. “I love you,” he panted, his thrusts slowing, but their ferocity just as hard.

The prince’s eyes fluttered open and he whimpered. “I love you too,” he gasped out, when Minho reached between them, wrapping his hand around Seungmin’s length. “Min—” Seungmin raised his voice to a shout, and Minho leaned down to kiss him, silencing him for fear that they may be heard. At night, the risks were few, but in daylight when servants were about…

Seungmin arched his back once more, sinking his teeth into Minho’s shoulder as he spilled into his fist, his cum dripping onto his stomach. Minho continued to thrust, burying his face in Seungmin’s neck. “My prince,” he moaned as Seungmin squeezed around him. “My precious prince.”

He began to pull out, but Seungmin’s ankles tightened around him. “No. Inside me. I want to feel you inside me, even as we journey to the port, even as I sit amongst the nobles at the feast tonight. I want you inside me.”

And Minho could not deny his prince this as he released his seed inside him, filling him like he wanted. 

“Oh, Minho,” Seungmin looked at him with shining eyes, “Minho, my love, I have an idea. Will you listen?” Minho rolled onto his back, his length still pressed inside Seungmin. “You’ll listen, won’t you?” Seungmin fell upon Minho’s chest, hurriedly reaching between them, pressing Minho’s length back into him as he began to slip out.

Minho reached up, brushing Seungmin’s damp hair away from his face. “Of course I’ll listen.”

“We can run away.”

“Prince Seungmin.”

“No, listen!” Seungmin pleaded, a desperate edge to his voice. “Just listen. We’ll sail somewhere. We’ll seek asylum. We’ll marry. We’ll be happy.”

Minho’s eyes widened at the nonchalance with which the prince was suggesting this absurd thing. “You would forsake the lives of your people? Of everyone in Klythya? You know what would happen if you don’t marry! Another flood!” 

“Then let them drown!” Seungmin snapped. “Let them all drown! At least there might not be anyone left in Klythya to come after us.”

Minho carefully moved Seungmin off him, setting him down. He swung his legs over the bed, his back to the prince, re-dressing himself. “You don’t mean that. You shouldn’t mean that,” he said over his shoulder as he adjusted his armor. “Love is not supposed to be destructive. And you would destroy the entire land because of it?”

The bed creaked and he felt Seungmin wrap his arms around his neck, pulling him against his chest. “It’s either we destroy them or they destroy us, Minho. Which would you have?”

Minho kept silent. How could he answer such a thing? How could he condemn so many to die? How could he ever be that selfish?

“There is another way,” Seungmin whispered into his ear. “I’ve been thinking about this a lot, Minho. Will you hear it?”

Minho sighed. He knew Seungmin sat for hours in his chambers, brooding over his fate, over their fate. But he’d never have thought that his brooding would lead to these fantastical ideas, destructive ideas. “What is it?”

“I’ll fulfil the prophecy and I’ll marry,” Seungmin said softly. “The prediction did not say that the marriage has to be binding. Felix will be agreeable, I know he will. He’ll allow us to break the marriage after it is done.”

Minho laughed. “My prince, do you honestly think your parents would allow you to simply break the marriage? Your marriage will come with trade, agreements, settlements… Things so valuable, that they will never allow you to break your marriage in fear of losing all that they’ve gained. This marriage isn’t simply to prevent a disaster – it is to gain.”

“And that’s when we’ll seek the help of your people.”

“What?” Minho simply could not understand this. “What do you mean?”

“They’ve been rebelling, haven’t they?” Seungmin’s voice was soft, persuasive, the voice he used to bribe Minho to stay another hour every night. “My love, you must join them. Mobilize them. Lead them to strike at the correct time.”

“Your Grace!” Minho leapt to his feet, looking down at the prince with horror. “That would be treason!”

“And it would mean that we get to be happy,” Seungmin’s smile was confident. He really had brooded over this. “Your people will be happy if it’s you on the throne.”

Minho could not believe that the prince would even suggest such. To even have such thoughts was treasonous, a betrayal of the kingdom.

“It’s your place, Minho,” Seungmin pressed. “You know what power you have. The throne should be yours.”

“My  _ place _ ?” Minho looked at him incredulously. “This is my place, Your Grace!” he held up his left hand, his rings catching the light from the fireplace, the red, the green and the blue blazing magnificently. “These rings are a mark of slavery! I am bound to serve your family and you know it.” As if to confirm his words, the rings tightened a fraction around his fingers.

Forged when he was just a baby, the immoveable rings were placed on his fingers, growing as he did, collecting his power, forcing him to use only as much strength as his superiors allowed him. 

“It can be undone,” Seungmin stood, taking Minho’s hand into his own, and brushing his fingertips over the rings. “Your people rebelled once, and you were taken from them. A price for their rebellion. But you can go back if you wish.”

“I can’t,” Minho sighed in frustration. “The rings prevent me from taking up arms against those who own me. Your Grace, you know this. Why do you insist –”

“The Children of Sanctity are the ones who forged the rings, and they can be persuaded to remove them.”

“Prince Seungmin, you’ve gone mad,” Minho recoiled from him. “If anyone finds out that we’ve even discussed this, I’ll be killed.”

“But I told you,” Seungmin glared, “I have it all planned. And if you don’t want to trust me, you don’t love me.”

Minho shook his head. “I do love you but –”

“Love doesn’t have any exceptions,” the prince insisted, holding Minho’s gaze. 

“I’m going to check on arrangements for your travel,” Minho said in means of excusing himself. “Please be ready soon, Your Grace.”

“Minho!” Seungmin’s temper flared. “Do not be a coward! You would rather serve the people who murdered your mother and tore you away from your family?”

Every word was a dagger to Minho’s heart. “Seungmin,” he began to shake with rage. “How dare you speak of –”

“You would rather shame your father who’d fought and died for you? Are you such a coward?”

“Seungmin,” Minho warned, clenching his fists, resisting the urge to strike out. Already, the rings were tightening around his fingers. 

“You’re a coward to not take what should belong to you,” Seungmin taunted. “And you’re a coward to not fight for the one you love. Your parents would be ashamed!”

“Seungmin, you spoiled brat of a prince, don’t you say another fucking word!” Minho slammed his fist into the nearest wall, a chunk of brick dislodging and falling to the floor. The prince recoiled from him, and already, a sharp, splitting pain was weaving through Minho’s body, almost like being struck by lightning from the inside. He grunted in pain, taking gasping breaths.

As long as he wore these rings, his own power could be used against him if he so much as looked at a member of the royal family in a menacing way. The rings obviously didn’t approve of his anger towards the prince.

“Minho –”

He held out a trembling hand, a silent warning for the prince to keep away, and reached up to unbolt the doors. Once in the hallway, he ran his fingers through his hair, breathing heavily. He scanned the hallway, trying to decipher whether anyone could have heard the damnable conversation that had just taken place, or the argument that followed.

He and Seungmin had argued before, but never like this. The prince had never broached the subject of Minho’s parents. He knew well enough not to.

The doors flew open. “Minho, I am sorry. I –”

“Your Grace,” Minho refused to look at him. “We leave soon. Please return to your chambers and dress for travel.”

He knew that Seungmin was desperate. He was too. But their situation couldn’t be helped, and deceit would not solve anything. Seungmin’s treacherous plan would involve too many elements that just weren’t constant – the people who Minho had not seen since he was an infant, the Children of Sanctity who served none but the Maker, and a sea prince whom Seungmin had not seen in ten years.


	3. Chapter 3

The first time Changbin woke, the first thing he registered was the splitting pain traveling through his cranium every time he tried to open his eyes.

“Fuck,” he swore out loud after forcing his eyes open, his surroundings a blur of red, orange, brown and black. 

_ Black _ . His pupils dilated as he tried to focus on the hazy mass of black in front of him. He reached out a hand but it felt heavy and he let it fall limply to his side. 

“Just rest for a bit. You’re too weak.”

Changbin wanted to ask who the voice belonged to, where he was, and what had happened, but he was just so tired. He slumped back onto the ground, sleep taking a hold of him once more.

The second time he woke, the pain in his skull had subsided to a dull ache, but that only alerted him to the state of the rest of his body. He writhed in agony, pressing a hand onto the left side of his ribcage. It was then that he realized he was naked, save for the piece of material wrapped around his middle. 

He tried to sit up, and was alarmed when he felt arms hoisting him up. His first instinct was to fight off whoever it was, until he remembered that he couldn’t. He just didn’t have the strength, and that scared him, because he was strong – usually.

Changbin was  _ strong _ . So whatever attacked him had to have been vicious. 

“You took quite a fall,” the stranger’s face came into view. He was dressed in black garb – a traveling coat that was lined with fur, the silver detail illuminated by the small brassier that was lit between them.

They were in in a grotto of some sort. While most of it was blanketed in darkness, when he craned his neck to the left, he could make out the glow of the moon illuminating the grey slate.

“They got you  _ real _ good,” the stranger sighed, drawing Changbin’s attention back to him. “But that stab wound will heal soon.”

_ Stab wound? _ Changbin tried to comprehend what he was hearing. He was  _ stabbed _ ? And then he…  _ He fell? _ Well, that explained the excruciating pain, but… “Where am I? What is this place? And who are you? What happened? I don’t remember much.”

“Rest,” the stranger rose to his feet, striding towards him, a flask in hand. “Drink and rest.” He held the flask to Changbin’s lips. “I fended them off, but more will come. You need to recover so we can leave.”

Changbin studied the man’s kind face before he sipped on the warm liquid, wincing at the taste. Bitter herbs and alcohol. But it dulled his pain so he drank more. “Who did you fend off?” he asked, but his words slurred. He could feel sleep pulling him into its arms once more.

“Thieves.”

“Thieves?”

The third time Changbin woke, he was sure it had all been a dream until he saw the face peering down at him. He could sit up on his own now, and the pain had faded into a bearable ache. 

“Here,” the stranger handed him a hunk of bread that Changbin couldn’t refuse. 

His stomach burned with hunger, and he bit greedily into the stale bread, eyeing the stranger curiously. “You said there were thieves.” 

“Four of them. I found them just as they pushed you into the river. I brought you back here. It’s the safest place I could find.”

Changbin could remember flashes of it now. They had ambushed him on the road, wielding knives and axes. “The Maker be damned,” Changbin swore and the stranger chuckled at the slur. The thieves had taken everything from him – his horse, his supplies – everything he needed to get to Hyunjin. 

_ Hyunjin _ .

Changbin’s eyes widened and despite the pain, he lurched to his feet, gripping the wall to keep his balance when the room began to spin. 

“Hey, calm down,” the stranger frowned, wrapping his hand around Changbin’s arm. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“I need to get to Hyunjin,” Changbin murmured, looking around for a set of clothes even though he knew would find none.

“Oh, that again,” the stranger clicked his tongue in admonishment and Changbin raised a brow. “That’s what you kept saying when I brought you back here. Over and over and over…” he sighed.

Changbin looked at him fearfully. He hadn’t meant for anyone to know what he was doing. Eloping with the prince’s betrothed was treason. He’d be hanged. “Listen, sir, I –”

The man raised his hand, quieting Changbin. “I’m going to help you steal him away from the castle, but you must trust me.”

“What?” He stared in disbelief. “Why would you… Who are you?”

“Jisung. Han Jisung.”

The name was familiar. Where had he heard it before?

“And like your Hyunjin, I’m going to be betrothed to the prince.”

Oh, well, that made sense now. Changbin had heard his name being announced, along with Hyunjin’s. 

The stranger rummaged in his bag, retrieving a dagger, the hilt the colour of blood. “We can help each other,” he smiled. “I want the throne. You want your lover.”

Changbin hesitated. His plan had been to sneak into the castle, find Hyunjin and go into hiding. But even to him that sounded stupid. The castle had a strong defence in place. The guards would seize him in under five seconds and both him and Hyunjin would be hung for treason.

“Do as I say. Help me sit on the throne and he’s free to be yours.”

It was a solution, and much better than his original plan. And Jisung had proven himself trustworthy by helping Changbin. He’d saved his life. 

“Do we have a deal?”

Changbin nodded. “Yes. Yes we do.”

Jisung’s smile faded, and for a moment Changbin wondered whether he’d said something wrong. Then he heard the voices. Quiet murmurs drifted down to them from the entrance to the grotto.

“Take this,” Jisung pushed the dagger into Changbin’s hand. “And get behind me.”

Changbin was about to protest until he remembered that while he’d failed to defend himself,  _ Jisung _ had been the one who’d fended off his attackers, even though he really could not understand how; Jisung didn’t have a threatening appearance – the dark robes that he wore dwarfed him. 

Seven men, all burly, wielding sharp weapons, entered the cavern, and Changbin took a fearful step backward. Now he could understand how they’d gotten the better of him. What he couldn’t understand was why four of them cowered at the back of the group, looking at Jisung like he was scariest thing they’d ever seen.

One of the men spoke up, looking at one of the cowering males in disbelief. “This is it? This is the  _ thing _ you spoke of?”

Changbin furrowed his brows. What  _ thing _ ?

“Leave,” Jisung’s voice was light, like he found amusement in this situation. “Listen to your companions, heed their warning and leave us be.”

To Changbin’s surprise, one of the men bolted, leaving the others staring after him in disbelief. Were they truly afraid of Jisung? For the life of him, Changbin could not find anything scary about him. He seemed kind, friendly and good-natured. Even now, he smiled.

“This is a joke,” one of the men at the front laughed. “Look at them. They’re no threat.”

And they really weren’t – especially not Changbin, bare bodied and frail. But if he had to, he would fight. Jisung certainly wouldn’t be capable of throwing a punch—

The noise started so suddenly, Changbin thought he was imagining it.  _ Drip, drip, drip _ . The sound of water dripping onto the floor. No. This wasn’t water. His stomach turned when he found the source. He couldn’t understand what he was seeing.

The lines on Jisung’s palm had begun to split open, and where one would expect blood, a thick black liquid began to drip steadily onto the ground. Two more of the men bolted, the others now looking fearful.

“What in the Maker’s name is he doing?” one of them whispered.

The black liquid pooled on the floor, and Changbin could have sworn it… It was  _ definitely _ moving. It began to emit a papery, whispery chittering sound, the sound your fingertips made when they rubbed against each other, but louder.

Changbin took a step backward, afraid of what was going to emerge from the black puddle. When he saw it, he paled.

It looked like a caterpillar, but its skin looked leathery and black. Dozens of legs protruded from its body, and as it scuttled forward, it left a trail of black slime in its wake. The man closest to it lifted a boot, squelching the creature into black mush. 

But more emerged, born from the dark liquid. Five turned into ten, and ten into twenty and Changbin lost count. They swarmed towards the men who tried to stomp on them but to no avail because more just emerged. They spread out, moving impossibly fast, clinging to their clothes and scurrying up their arms and legs, in their clothing. 

They sliced through skin, burrowing into the men’s bodies until tiny shapes could be seen moving beneath their skin.

Changbin had now backed himself against the wall, even though he was clearly not their target. This was unnatural.  _ Dark _ .  _ Sorcery _ .

And then all movement stopped. Not one insect remained in sight. The men had stopped flailing, some of them on their knees, all their weapons abandoned. 

It happened suddenly. They turned on each other, clawing at each other’s faces, teeth gnashing like beasts, slamming each other against the ground, reaching for their weapons. Blood sprayed across the walls, entrails falling onto the ground as their blades slashed and slaughtered.

Changbin heaved, hot bile working its way up his throat and onto the ground. 

“Changbin, come here.”

Jisung.

Changbin shook his head. He’d made a deal with the devil. But he wanted out now.

“I’m not going to hurt you.”

He shook his head. No. 

“If you love Hyunjin, you will do as I say, Changbin.”

_ Hyunjin _ . Yes. Yes, he loved Hyunjin.

He took shaky steps towards Jisung, standing at an arm’s length away. Only one man remained now. He was on his knees; the darkness had begun to leave his eyes, their clarity returning as they took in the carnage around him. He began to retch, flecks of blood leaving his mouth.

“I’m tired. I can’t do any more,” Jisung leaned against the wall for support. Beads of sweat dripped down his face and dark circles had appeared beneath his eyes. “But if you let him go, more of them will come after us. You understand, don’t you?”

Changbin didn’t understand until Jisung looked pointedly at the dagger still clutched in his hand. Oh. No. No, he couldn’t  _ kill _ anyone. The smell of blood and butchered flesh nauseated him, but the thought of killing someone made him start retching. 

“Changbin, do it.”

He shook his head, doubling over as he expelled the contents of his stomach. 

“Do it, or we’re going to die before the night is over.”

“No.”

“Then we are going to die and you’ll never see your Hyunjin again. As soon as this one gets out, he’ll bring back help. They won’t stop until we’re dead.”

Hyunjin… Maybe Changbin  _ could _ do it. After all, these were bad people. And Jisung was right. They would have killed him. If more of them come, what chance did they have, especially if Jisung was this drained? 

The knife felt slippery between his sweaty fingers, and he didn’t know where to begin. It’s not like he had been going around stabbing people in his village. The Maker have mercy, he hadn’t even gotten into a brawl!

“I don’t know how,” he admitted. “I don’t know how to…”

“Ah,” Jisung nodded in understanding, his mouth curving into a sympathetic smile. “If you don’t want to look at his face, stand behind him.”

Of course Changbin didn’t want to look at his face. How could he look into someone’s eyes and see the life leaving them? He did as Jisung instructed, standing behind the man. He seemed to be coming to his senses now, head moving this way and that as he tried to decipher what had happened. 

“Now,” Jisung nodded in approval, “slide the dagger nice and firmly across the vein in his throat.”

Changbin blinked at the matter-of-factly tone the other used. It was as if this was a part of his daily schedule. He’d heard scary things about the Kingdom of Hamlyne. But he’d assumed they were all tales told to scare the children into sleeping without a fuss.

“Quickly,” Jisung seemed to lose his patience. “We need to get going.”

Changbin fumbled with the knife, almost losing his grip, but managing to hold it against the man’s throat. The man attempted to struggle now, and Changbin had to grip his matted hair to keep his head in place. 

The cut wasn’t clean, and he’d applied more pressure than necessary. The blood sprayed across the ground, a gurgling sound emerging from the man’s throat before he collapsed, lifeless. 

Changbin thought that he would feel something – remorse, regret, anguish. But now there was only apathy, and a slight feeling of relief that he’d gotten over with it. He’d been appalled at the act of taking a life and repulsed at the suggestion that he should do it, but he didn’t know where this sudden indifference had come from. His senses felt numb, dull, like he was being lulled to sleep but was still very much awake. 

“See,” Jisung’s voice seemed to close in on him, even though he still stood a few feet away. “It’s not so bad, is it?” His voice was right in Changbin’s ear. Right inside. Inside his head. 

Jisung was inside his head.

Jisung knew how Changbin felt. Growing up among his people, Jisung had been trained since he was a child in the art of protecting the mind against this kind of violation – a violation that his people had the ability to commit. There were so many titles for them – The Night Folk, The Dark Born… But only one title held true, a secret title that they kept to themselves – The Illusionists.

It was as simple as a phantom – the simple act of imagining that he was raking his fingers over someone’s body, feeling them shudder beneath his fingertips, surrendering everything to him, bare, willing, vulnerable. Just a drop of his blood spilled in the vicinity of a human was enough to make them lose their mind, if that was what Jisung desired. He could make them see all kinds of things. He could make them feel anything, or nothing at all. 

A mind fuck, he liked calling it, although he had been told that was a bit of a brash term. Not fit for someone who was to sit on a throne one day. For a long time, his father had tried to drill into him the makings of a king. But Jisung wasn’t polite, he wasn’t generous, and he didn’t want to be a king who served the people. He was self-serving, shrewd and merciless, and that was going to win him his throne.

“If you want to work for me,” Jisung loosened his grip on Changbin’s mind as he spoke – he couldn’t do it all at once or it would unhinge the poor fellow completely, “you need to grow accustomed to this – letting me in whenever I desire.”

When Changbin’s mind was his own again, the muscular male stumbled backward, gasping for air. Typical for a first time. 

“What did you do to me?” he gave Jisung an accusatory look. “What are you? You…” His eyes narrowed. “This is how you know about me and Hyunjin. You’ve been inside my head before, haven’t you?”

Jisung clicked his tongue, skilfully ignoring the question, because if Changbin knew exactly to what extent he had gone to obtain  _ that _ information, he would be sure to turn tail. To force Changbin into his service, Jisung would have to waste his precious blood – permanent illusions were costly. “You make it seem as if I’m a monster. I saved your life, remember?” He gave Changbin a second to recall this. “I’m simply teaching you the ways of my people. You’ve heard the scary stories, I’m sure?” Changbin’s eyes widened slightly, and he eyed the cavern opening as though preparing to bolt.

“I wouldn’t run if I were you,” Jisung chuckled. “We’re in the Forest of Chimera. There are worse things out there than me.” The farmhand stiffened at the realization, and Jisung nodded in confirmation. “There is something else you should know,” he pointed at the dagger still hanging from Changbin’s fingertips. “In Hamlyne, it is customary for a deal-broker to gift a dagger to the one he is brokering a deal with. Once the dagger is accepted…”

Changbin’s eyes flashed in anger. “You tricked me!”

“I did not,” Jisung lied easily. “We were interrupted before I could explain. But since you have already accepted the gift, you are now subject to the laws of Hamlyne.”

“Are you saying that I can’t back out?” Changbin clenched the dagger in his fist, seething.

Jisung shrugged, flashing him a grin. “Oh, you can. But when you do, you will find that you do not have very long to live.” He waited a beat for the lie to sink in, before using his more persuasive tone. “You’ve seen what I can do. You saw what I did to these men. You saw my  _ magic _ .” Magic – what bullshit. “Now, if you’ll follow me, I have a carriage waiting. We might reach the castle before your beloved.”

The other perked up at the mention of Hyunjin. He really was lovesick. Jisung would have felt bad for him, that his feelings were not reciprocated, but it worked so well in Jisung’s favour. It was a weapon that Jisung was sharpening for his use.

There was nothing more dangerous than a jilted lover. 

“Aren’t people going to notice at once that I’m not from your kingdom?” Changbin questioned. 

Jisung began to strip one of the dead men of their clothing, tossing each item to the farmhand who looked reviled but began to slip it on nevertheless. Changbin was incredibly pliant, he had realized. 

Jisung hadn’t been too weak to kill the remaining man. It was one of the many lies he’d told Changbin, and his exhaustion had simply been another illusion. It had been a test to see how far Changbin could push himself – how easily persuaded he was – without Jisung having to waste blood on an illusion. And Jisung was satisfied with the outcome.

“No,” he gave Changbin a cunning smile. “But I’ll tell you all you need to know on the ride to the castle. And when I’m done with you, Changbin, you’ll look like one of us, you’ll speak like one of us, and you will  _ be _ one of us.”

Jisung’s illusions were so powerful that he could even make a simple farmhand believe he that he was a rich lord.

Hyunjin couldn’t understand what he had done to cause the fear in Prince Jeongin’s eyes. But the young prince simply would not look in his direction and when he had to, he looked at Hyunjin as if he was something dangerous.

“At least the chill has left the night,” Hyunjin tried to spark a conversation once more. Again, the prince only made a sound of acknowledgment but nothing more. Hyunjin frowned. So be it. It wasn’t as if the prince was his companion. If he didn’t want to have a polite conversation, Hyunjin could not force it.

They’d been traveling so long, that Hyunjin had begun to yawn again. He scanned the forest, looking for an end to it but saw only endless green.

And when the prince announced, “We’re here,” Hyunjin tugged on the reins, his mare coming to a halt. 

“What do you mean, Your Highness? We’re still in the forest.” They had long since passed the upper stream of the river, but the prince had continued on, and Hyunjin had followed, sure that the prince knew of some safe passage to the castle.

“Just beyond that grove,” the prince pointed to a thicket of trees, his other hand on the hilt of his sword as if he expected to be attacked, “is our way out. If you look between the trees, you can glimpse the mountain.”

“The mountain?” Hyunjin gaped, glimpsing the granite through the trees. “Do we – do we – we don’t have to  _ climb _ that, do we?” The thought of it was preposterous. Hyunjin couldn’t climb a tree let alone a mountain. 

“Of course not,” Prince Jeongin huffed, raising an eyebrow in Hyunjin’s direction. “Just follow me. And be quiet.”

Hyunjin balked. “I am qui –”

“Hush.”

Hyunjin closed his mouth, and spurred his horse into a slow trot after the prince. They had almost crossed the grove when a rustling sound ahead forced them to stop. Although the prince’s hand remained on his sword, he didn’t seem very concerned.

Hyunjin on the other hand, was ready to make a run for it, and held tightly onto the reins. He would not rely on this boy prince to protect him. What was he going to do? Order their attacker to stop and kneel? No, Hyunjin could not rely on this prince.

“Who goes there?” A voice bellowed from ahead, and an armed guard bearing the crest of Klythya emerged from between the trees. His eyes widened upon the sight of them and immediately sank into a bow. “Prince Jeongin.”

There was a sigh of relief from the prince, and he hopped off his horse, greeting the guard with a firm nod. “Prepare passage through the mountain. We must reach the castle soon.”

Hyunjin furrowed his brows at the order.  _ Through _ the mountain? Not over? Not around? But  _ through _ ?

The soldier led them through a small thicket of trees, pushing away a few low-hanging branches, and finally, leading them out into the dawn. The sunrise was warm and golden and Hyunjin welcomed it. 

“Did my men arrive safely?” The prince questioned. 

The soldier nodded solemnly. “They arrived hours ago, Your Highness. They said you had ordered not to send out a scouting party to look for you.”

“I did,” the prince confirmed. And Hyunjin had to wonder why he had refused help. “What of Officer Myeon? Has anyone had word from him?”

Hyunjin gasped. Officer Myeon. He recalled the black dog that haunted the soldier’s steps. “Did something happen?” he asked, forgetting the prince’s order to be quiet. 

The prince studied him for a few seconds, mouth twisting into a frown. “He followed me into the forest. But he… I don’t know what happened to him.”

Hyunjin had an inkling. He recalled an old wives’ tale, a superstition no one heeded, a symbol of death. The hound of death. The dog was said to haunt soldiers, following at their heel before they were dragged into death.

Hyunjin shuddered to think that it could be more than just a tale. Perhaps if he’d given some kind of warning to the Officer… But how? Sometimes, his gift was a nuisance. 

He looked up in time to see that they were approaching the base of the mountain. A few more soldiers stood guard, and Hyunjin was flabbergasted by the fact that they seemed to be guarding a mountain.  _ How odd. _

“The horses remain behind,” the prince glanced at Hyunjin. “Unfortunately, we go on foot from here.”

“But where are we going?” Hyunjin asked in exasperation. “This is a  _ mountain _ . We cannot just – oh.”

There was a crunching sound and a large section of the mountain was pulled back, like a door that could only be opened from the inside. A door. In a mountain.

Hyunjin gawked. How was this possible? Were there  _ people _ down there?

“The Master awaits your arrival, Your Highness,” one of the guards announced, gesturing for them to enter. Hyunjin followed with trepid steps, unsure of what he should expect. 

Well, he certainly did not expect this. The inside of the mountain was well-lit, with several braziers illuminating the hundreds of crossings, ridges and viaducts that had been built. An entire city inside the mountain!

Men and women dressed in linen smocks moved about in single file, carrying tools of various kinds – hammers, sickles, brushes. And among them were soldiers, their eyes carefully scanning the lines of people, some of them carrying swords, others whips. 

This wasn’t a city, Hyunjin realized. It was a  _ prison _ . As far as he knew – as far as anyone knew, the King took prisoners into the castle dungeons. But this… This was unheard of.

“This way,” the prince kept his eyes on the ground as they were led up a narrow staircase and into a viaduct. A large fireplace warmed the room, and a few chairs had been arranged around a table laden with several steaming dishes. 

Hyunjin’s stomach grumbled loudly at the sight, and the prince tactfully pretended not to hear. He wondered if it would be rude to begin eating without an invitation. He was starving.

“You must be hungry.”

Hyunjin’s eyes darted around the room, looking for the person who had spoken, and finally settled on a woman standing statuesque beside the fireplace, so still that she could have been part of the décor. She wore a cerulean blue robe, the sleeves hanging off her like wings. Her cowl was pulled back, and the golden thread shone in the light. She had a kind smile, but her eyes – Hyunjin started at this – were an unnatural green, like two blinking emeralds. 

“Master Siyeolan,” the prince bowed. “I did not expect you.”

Still startled by this person’s appearance, Hyunjin made a half-attempt at a bow, wondering to whom, and to  _ what _ , he was bowing.

The robed woman fixed her eyes on Hyunjin who squirmed beneath her gaze. He felt like he was being examined from the inside-out. 

“Not many have the pleasure of meeting me,” her voice was soft, and filled undeniably with amusement. “In fact, many of the common-folk believe that I, and my kind, are something of a fairy tale.”

The Children of Sanctity, Hyunjin realized. This was the Master of their Order – the newest Order that was said to be the most radical of all the Orders that had existed before theirs. He offered another bow, a proper one. “Forgive me, Master, I did not recognize you.” And he had not believed in her existence either. The Children had never set foot in his tiny village, and when they were spoken of, it was usually in a bedtime story, or a tale told around the fire. A myth, until now.

“It’s no fault of yours,” the Master chuckled. She seemed nice enough. 

“Prince Jeongin,” the Master smiled. “I have your quarters set up for you in the east wing. Eat and rest. I will need to have a word with your brother’s betrothed.”

And even though Hyunjin wanted to protest at this arrangement – he did not know how safe he would be with this woman – the prince found no qualms with it and proceeded to offer another bow before he was on his way. He didn’t even glance at Hyunjin on his way out. Oh well.

Hyunjin focused his attention on the woman before him. It was said that the Children had more power than the King. It was them who made the laws, and the King who enforced it among the people. Hyunjin could see it now, how the power radiated off this woman who stood with her head held high.

“Shall we eat?

They ate in silence, and when Hyunjin had his fill, he looked up from his plate to find that the Master too had finished and was staring at him expectantly. 

“Hyunjin, I am going to ask you a favour – no, two – that may be slightly burdensome.”

Well, this had taken a turn. What could the Master possibly need from him?

“First, I would like to request that whatever you have seen here, not be relayed to any other.”

_ Secrecy _ . “Of course, Master.” Secrets were powerful when wielded in the correct situation.

“But you must have questions?” the green-eyed woman smiled warmly. “I would be only happy to answer them.”

Hyunjin bit his lip. He had questions, but the more answers he received, the more secrets he would have to guard. It could be beneficial. But if he let something slip… No, who would he talk to anyway?

“Where am I?”

The Master nodded as if expecting this question. “Every town from this point on, beyond the mountain,” she began to explain, “all receive their food, clothing, anything of value, really, from the mountain.” Hyunjin inwardly cringed at the mention of the rich towns where people of importance lived – dukes, duchesses, the King and Queen’s extended families,

He shook his head to convey his lack of understanding. “But what  _ is _ this place?”

“Do you remember the rebellion after the First Flood?”

“Of course,” Hyunjin inclined his head. Everyone knew about the rebellion. Unlike Hyunjin’s village, not every village had quietly accepted the King’s lack of help and sympathy. They would not accept that the King would go on with his life while they struggled with wreckage from the flood. They rose up and fought. But it was a losing battle. The leaders of the rebellion had been the first to fall after their child had been taken by the royal family. It was a useless rebellion marked by blood and loss.

“Only a few were slaughtered. Those who remained were put to work in the mountain.”

“But – but how –” Hyunjin spluttered, at a loss for words. Everyone had been told that the punishment for rebellion had been death! “You mean, most of the rebels are  _ alive _ , and kept as prisoners in this mountain?”

Master Kim nodded, her face impassive. “Some have escaped over the years, forming rebel factions that hide away from us, attacking when we least expect it, trying to achieve what the rebellion couldn’t.” Her eyes widened now. “I probably should not have shared that part with you. If anyone –”

“I won’t tell,” Hyunjin promised. This was valuable information to him. A sixth sense told him so. But he just did not know why – not yet. “This will stay between us, Master. But I have one more question. Who else knows about the goings-on of the mountain?”

The Master shrugged, a soft sigh leaving her lips. “None but my Order and the royal family. Of course, the nobles know that their valuables come from somewhere, but they remain unaware of the specifics.”

Hyunjin stared in disbelief. “How can they have all these nice things – clothes and jewels and food and not care to ask about the source?” 

Master Kim gave him a wry smile. “You are a long way from home, Hwang Hyunjin. Here, the penalty for asking questions weighs heavier than the penalty for ignorance.”

Hyunjin contemplated this statement in his mind, the warning clear. Curiosity was dangerous and he would have to curb his or face the consequences. 

The Master’s smile appeared less warm now.

It had been a hallucination and nothing more. A vision of seduction and temptation caused by whatever dwelled in the forest. But it plagued Jeongin to the point that he could not stomach any food, nor could he rest like Master Kim had instructed. 

The Master had sent the garrison back to the castle, allowing Jeongin and Hyunjin a few hours to recover before they made their way back. They were to use the passage reserved only for the Children; it ran from a cavern far below in the depths of the mountain, all the way back to the Hanging Gardens. It was how Master Kim travelled to and fro, to oversee the running of the mountain.

But even with his head on a soft pillow, the young prince could not sleep. He found his mind wandering to Hyunjin, bringing back the taste of his lips, the way his skin felt beneath Jeongin’s fingertips, the contours of his stomach. 

Against his will, his hand strayed down to his cock which pushed impudently against the fabric of his breeches. He managed to suppress a moan as he pressed a hand to his crotch, the rough material causing his nerves to spark. 

He flopped onto his back, undoing the drawstrings and allowing his erection to spring free. By all means, he should not be touching himself thinking of Seungmin’s betrothed. But he had to get rid of this restless energy that thrummed in his veins, and this seemed to be the only way.

The tip of his cock glistened, and his shaft was engorged, the skin tight. Just the touch of his fingertips caused his length to jerk. 

He gasped, tightening his grip and shuttling his cock through it. He shouldn’t be doing this here but he was too far gone to pay attention to the logical part of his brain.

Unbidden, an image arrived. Hyunjin. On his knees. His shiny dark hair fell around his eyes, framing his cheekbones. His mouth hung open, waiting, ready. Jeongin grabbed his hair, pushing his head back and shoving his cock into Hyunjin’s mouth. His pillowy pink lips were swollen and tight around the shiny length of Jeongin’s cock. 

Despite his conscience screaming at him, Jeongin began to slide his hand along his shaft, eyes squeezed shut as he imagined the way Hyunjin’s mouth would swallow him. His sacs began to draw up, and he came with a grunt, cum filling his fingers and slicking his palm.

Ridden with guilt, he retrieved a towel, cleaning the sticky mess he had created. He flopped back down onto the bed, groaning into the pillow, and willing sleep to comfort him. But just as his eyelids began to droop, a scream rang through the walls. 

He shot up, his hair standing on end. Of course there would be screaming. This was not his first visit to the mountain. He knew that the prisoners had to be kept in line, that transgressions – even minor ones – would not be tolerated. 

But Hyunjin… This was his first time. 

He knocked twice on Hyunjin’s door before it was wrenched open. The tall boy was trembling. He looked distraught, his dark hair a mess, his white shirt damp with either sweat or tears or both. Three buttons were undone, revealing the milky skin of his chest. 

“Can you hear them? Can you hear the screams?” Hyunjin whispered, his words frantic.

Jeongin averted his eyes from Hyunjin’s chest, inviting himself into the room and closing the door behind him. “I thought they might trouble you.”

“Trouble?” Hyunjin was aghast, his arms wrapped around his body. “ _ Trouble _ ? Is that not too much of an understatement? There are people  _ screaming _ –”

“Prisoners,” Jeongin was quick to correct. “They are prisoners, and they must have committed some kind of folly if they’re being punished.”

“They are hu –” his voice broke off into a squeak as another scream rang through the air, “–man, just like you and I.”

Jeongin chose to ignore that the peasant had long-since abandoned use of his title. Not many people would be bold to speak to Jeongin so casually, and not many with survive such unscathed. 

“This should not be permissible,” the peasant insisted, perching on the edge of his bed. “These – these are –” he whimpered as more screams rent the air, “–people.”

Jeongin hesitated before joining him, careful to leave at least a foot of space between them. He placed a hand on Hyunjin’s shoulder, only to comfort him, he reassured himself – it had nothing to do with his insistent internal need to touch Hyunjin. “The Children govern the prison inside the mountain. Nothing can be done. Not by you, nor I, nor my father the King.”

Hyunjin scoffed. “And what use is it being king when you can’t change something that so desperately needs to be changed?”

“Purpose,” Jeongin answered easily. “As King you would have purpose, responsibility and duty towards the people you govern. My father, the King may not have authority here, but the rest of the kingdom relies on him, on our family, to ensure the smooth running of our kingdom. The King will always do what is best for –”

“How long did it take for you to memorize that answer?” Hyunjin turned his head, giving Jeongin a knowing look.

“A few days, and then some,” Jeongin admitted. He’d been seven when he had begun lessons on diplomacy. 

Hyunjin let out a humourless chuckle, and when Jeongin saw his gaze land on the hand that was still on his shoulder, the prince quickly dropped his hand, realizing with a start that his fingers had inched up to toy with the collar of Hyunjin’s shirt.

“I’ll leave you to rest,” Jeongin pushed to his feet, putting more distance between himself and the peasant. 

Hyunjin’s teeth clamped into the plushness of his lower lip, and he looked up imploringly at Jeongin. The prince backed further away, ready to lock himself in his chamber away from this temptation, and stay there cowering until it was time to leave.

“Can we not leave now?”

Jeongin stared. “Now?”

“I don’t think I can stay a minute longer with all the screaming,” Hyunjin admitted, his hands clasped in his lap subserviently. “Please – I – it’s… I don’t need to rest.”

He was visibly distraught, but Jeongin had been asked by Master Kim to wait for ten turns of the clock before leaving. Only six had passed. 

“I am going to go mad,” Hyunjin’s tone was more insistent, his jaw clenched. 

“I could request earlier passage from Master Kim.” Jeongin hadn’t planned on acceding to the peasant’s request so immediately, but like his cock which twitched in his pants, covered thankfully by his tunic, he seemed to have lost control over his words too.

He descended the spiral staircase that led down into the depths of the mountain, past the bedchambers, past the cells, past the clanking of tools, the barked orders and the screams. He knew he would find the Master in the prayer vault.

Its ceilings were low, and it smelled of burning candlewax, cloves and sage. Runes had been carved into the stone walls, and Jeongin could not read them. He hadn’t gotten that far in his rune reading lessons, not as far as Seungmin at least.

Master Kim sat in a corner, etching letters onto a piece of parchment. She looked up at Jeongin’s arrival and offered a smile. 

“What brings you here, Your Grace? Have you come to offer a prayer?” She tilted her head, the piercing gaze of her green eyes making Jeongin uneasy.

Master Kim was Seungmin’s dearest teacher. But having had his own set of tutors, Jeongin hadn’t spent much time with her. His childhood was spent sulking, or trying to find a way to outdo Seungmin’s achievements. In fact, not much had changed since then.

Jeongin had come to plead on Hyunjin’s behalf, to allow them to leave. But faced with the pious atmosphere, and the knowing gaze of the Master, he suddenly found himself submitting to his conscience. 

“Confession,” Jeongin admitted. “If you have time, Master Kim.”

The master put down her quill, and rose from her chair, her curiosity no doubt piqued. Jeongin had only done this a handful of times, wary that Master Kim could easily relay the information back to his family.

But Jeongin had to wash himself of this sin, so he kneeled before the Master, relaying his tale of the forest, and then briefly mentioned what he had done to himself in the bedchamber.

Master Kim listened silently, her face impassive, withholding judgment. And when Jeongin had confessed all of it, he dared to look up at the Master, wondering what his punishment would be. Out of all the Orders that have existed before, the current Order, under the leadership of Master Kim, was known as the harshest. Their punishments were often permanent and irreversible.

“Up,” the Master instructed, her gaze sweeping the alcoves in the walls. Jeongin rose unsteadily to his feet, watching as the Master walked the length of the room in search of something. “What happened in the forest was an illusion, a trick. You are not to be blamed for it.” The prince heaved a sigh of relief at this. “But pleasuring yourself,” and Jeongin looked down at his feet ashamedly, “while thinking of your brother’s betrothed, is not something that can be taken lightly.” 

Jeongin knew this. He knew that he’d committed a grave sin, that he should be punished. But when he saw the strange contraption in the Master’s hand, he wondered whether he should beg to be spared. However harsh the Children of Sanctity were, they had exempted the royal family from punishment on more than one occasion. It would be no different now, if Jeongin asked. 

“What – what is that?”

“You agree that you have committed a sin against your brother, the crown prince of the kingdom, and therefore sinned against The Maker?”

He could not deny it. “I agree.”

“And you agree that a punishment is deserved?”

Jeongin took a deep breath. He would bear it, however torturous it was. “Yes, I agree.”

“Your trousers,” the Master approached, her steps echoing throughout the prayer chamber, “take them off.”

The prince blinked rapidly, breaking out into a sweat, but his fingers automatically pulled at his drawstrings. His mouth felt dry as the Master gripped his penis between his fingers. Jeongin balked at the foreign touch. An intrusion. No, a  _ punishment _ . He deserved this.

The silver cage held his penis enclosed inside it and a ring went around the base of his cock, trapping the balls between the ring and the cage like a peasant’s head in the stocks, awaiting death. The ring was locked to the cage with a tiny padlock, of which the only key was with Master Kim.

Jeongin knew that if he objected, if he asked for a different punishment, the Master would give in to his plea. But this, the humiliation that it brought, along with the constant reminder that he had sinned was undeniably the perfect punishment. 

“All will be forgiven if you bear your penance, Your Highness.”

And Jeongin would bear it.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading 💕💕💕  
> Twitter   
> CuriousCat


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